


Long Exposure

by Poshii



Category: Final Fantasy, Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe, Claustrophobia, Dad!Cor, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Human Experimentation, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Injury Recovery, M/M, MT Prompto, MT!Prompto, Panic Attacks, Past Abuse, Poor Prompto, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recovery, claustrophobic!prompto, papa!Cor, title might change I'm not sure if i like it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-26
Updated: 2018-08-04
Packaged: 2019-01-23 19:02:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 26,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12514284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poshii/pseuds/Poshii
Summary: The worst part is the strange robotic attachments.There's several, one on each collarbone, dug into the skin with thick scar tissue around them. Another just above his heart and from the position Gladio can see another on the base of his neck, indicating a row of them that decorate the length of his spinal chord.Poor fucking kid.He knows the MT’s are soulless monsters, but to do something like this to a kid, a young man, probably even younger than Noctis? It’s more than Gladio can imagine, and it makes his blood boil with rage.((I love the whole MT!Prompto trend going on right now and it's inspired me to do my own take on it, ITS kinda turning into a Momica and papa!Cor adopt Prompto fic but we'll see lol <3))(On hiatus))





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I honestly don't know that much about final fantasy in general or the XV universe, so If I make mistakes I'm sorry lmfao. ALSO this is an alternative universe, where Lucius is winning a war against Niflheim, also the characters are all a tad younger: Noctis/Prompto: 17 Gladio: 20 Ignus: 19.
> 
> This work is SUPER inspired by "Poor Wayfaring Stranger" and "Running Behind" I really recommend these two if you haven't read them already. (as well as pretty much all of the MT Prompto fics out there because ya'll know I've read a lot of em.) 
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

Apparently, the meeting with his father is urgent enough to interrupt the breakfast Ignis was making. The man is still wearing his apron when he joins Gladio and Clarus in the councilman's office.

Gladio smiles to him in greeting, while his father sets a tube of paper on the table in front of them. “King Regis has a task for you two.” he rolls it longways and it spreads out to reveal a color-coded map of Niflheim. Gladio glosses over it with his eyes, already familiar with the land through studies, near the border is a red X, marked with a marker, and indicating a location.

“This,” Clarus begins, “Is a training facility for Magitek Soldiers. You may know them better as MT units.”

Gladio blinks, “That close? It’s practically overlapping our border.”

His father nods, “We have kept an eye on it for some time but recently it was discovered that the Facility is empty.”

Ignis’ mouth forms a small ‘o’, “Fascinating,” he breathes.

“Yes, Along with the entire surrounding area.” Clarus leans back in his chair, “Marshal Leonis took a squadron to watch the facility just two days ago, there was no reported activity so they got closer and managed their way inside. They came back with the news, along with valuable files and pieces of unique technology.”

“How curious” Ignis mutters, “And They haven’t returned?” Gladio can see the metaphorical gears turning in his head. With all the new information, Lucious’ upper hand could easily warp into a complete advantage.

Clarus nods to Ignis, “They’ve made no attempt to reclaim the base. In fact, we’ve not seen a single unit in a thirty-mile radius since our discovery.”

“So…” Gladio inquires, “What’s this got to do with us?”

***

Later that same afternoon, Gladio finds himself wandering the halls of said facility with the Prince and Ignis. Their ‘King appointed task’ is to take the prince sightseeing.

Noctis, at just seventeen years old, recently became a member of the Kingsglaive. Up until this point, all his tasks were menial and involved driving around with Gladio and Ignis to explore the furthest outreaches of Lucious. There had been plenty to do during the first few months but, with the luxury of a waning war that quickly changed. Now, They’d be lucky to get an assignment every other week, instead of every day like in the beginning.

The King thinks such a lifestyle is too easy for Noctis. The prince needed hands-on experiences to prepare himself for his harsh future of running a kingdom.

Gladio and Ignis weren’t supposed to inform the prince that the danger was non-existent, and they had both agreed. Truthfully Gladio felt guilty for playing along but then he saw what the experience was already doing for Noctis. The young prince seems to be far more engaged than he has any other time that month, so maybe this was just for the best. It would make sense that the king would be the one to know his son the best.

Gladio had only been in one other facility, during a Kingsglaive appointed reconnaissance mission. He hated it because the entire time he couldn’t shake the sense of dread pooling in his gut. Back then, Gladio had assumed it was a product of the danger.

Now, the same feelings persist, even with the knowledge that the place is empty. He decides to chalk it up to a more general Nifheim thing and shoves the feeling aside as they proceed.

Once they reach the main building, he can’t help but shiver, The long corridors of steel ceiling and floor insulate the entire thing, keeping every ounce of cold inside. If it was this freezing in October, he didn’t even wanna think about what it would be like in the winter.

Noctis turns from his place a few paces ahead of them, his breath visible as he speaks, “Are Nif bases always this… dark?”

The three of them had been using the light on their phones to see because apparently the Nif’s took the fuse boxes with them when they turned tail and ran.

“Perhaps there’s a light source nearby,” Ignis prompts, moving his flashlight over the expanse of wall to check.

Gladio pats Noctis between his shoulders, causing the boy to take an involuntary step forward, “We just gotta find it.”

Noctis rubs at the spot as he looks around, “Okay, yeah.”

They spend a tedious amount of time inspecting empty walls and empty hallways and empty rooms. His father wasn’t kidding when he said the place had been stripped. Every door is open, every room is carded through. Many areas of the floor are much cleaner than the surrounding rest, indicating that something was there for a long time before being removed. And then Finally the three find their way to a heavy looking door.

The door is covered in all kinds of strange lights and symbols, Gladio pushes it, expecting some kind of resistance but it simply gives way and lets them through. He leads the way into an Atrium.

Noctis leans back on his heels to take in the whole area, “Whoa.”

“Whoa indeed.” Ignis agrees.

The place is absolutely ginormous, spreading at least 60 feet in diameter. A big pillar- like structure sits dead in the center. Around it is a wrapping staircase that stops at each level for about five stories until reaching the ceiling. Each floor has odd rounded shapes lining it.

Gladio squints towards them as they walk closer, and realizes that they’re just rows and rows of pods. They pepper around the outside, all open and free of any remaining contents. The Nif could have kept special equipment in there or, maybe they’d been in the process of animal testing. The latter sounds far more horrible and likely.

He really hopes it’s not the latter.

They make their way across a catwalk, Gladio glances over the edge. It’s hard to tell if the bottom is painted black or very far down.

“Watch your step big guy.” Ignis pats him on the back as he walks past him, Gladio had stopped moving without realizing.

Just in front of the pillar is a big expanse of buttons, all different colors of green and red, sitting on a table, just begging to be pressed.

Noctis reaches out to do just that, Gladio grabs his wrist. “And just what do you think you’re doing?”

Noctis pulls his hand back out of Gladio’ grasp, “I was just gonna try to turn on the lights,” he huffs.

Gladio fixes him with a stare, “And what was your plan going to be when you triggered an alarm instead?”

"geez, point taken.”

Ignis pushes his way between them and quizzically looks over the different buttons, “I believe I may be able to tell which is the correct one,” before carefully reaching out. After a small delay, where Gladio thinks it simply didn’t work, all the lights flash on.

They’re a mix of blinding white and harsh shades of red, probably from a backup power source or something. It’s fitting, in the worst kind of way.

“Awesome Job Iggy!” Noctis offers a high five and Ignis obliges, “I’ll scout out ahead.” he volunteers, turning off his flashlight and stuffing it into his pocket.

Before Gladio can protest Ignis grabs his arm, “That’s a great idea, Call to us if something goes awry.”

Noctis grins back at him “Can do.”

“And don’t press any buttons!” Gladio shouts after him, Noctis takes the winding stairs up and around to the back of the large center pillar, sparing a glance and a thumbs up before disappearing from sight. Gladio listens to the sounds of his footsteps as he walks on ahead, careful not to let him get too far ahead.

He shoots Ignis a look.

“He’ll be fine,” Ignis says, “The facility is empty, and it will do him good to practice one of his in-field techniques.” He whispers the rest, in case Noctis was still in listening range.

“Yeah yeah,” Gladio sighs, “You know, I thought I’d be the one telling you that.” Ignis lets out an amused puff of air.

“Funny how we assume things.”

Gladio scans the area with his eyes, The red light bounces off the glass of the open pods. He shudders, “Hey, I have a question.”

Ignis raises an eyebrow, “I may have an answer.”

“My old man didn’t shell out many details, but do you have any idea what made them pack up shop? This place is too well- maintained to be abandoned like this.”

Ignis makes a noise of contemplation, “I wasn’t briefed particularly well myself, but this base is Practically on top of Lucious’ borders, Correct?”

“Yeah.”

“It appears as if they decided to retreat further inland, now that we’ve gotten the upper hand on the war.”

Gladio considers the information, shifting on his feet, “Hm, I never thought about it like that. I guess these Bases have always seemed so….”

“Impenetrable?” Ignis supplies.

“That’s a word for it,” He nods. “It just doesn’t seem like they’d even need to take measures like this.”

Ignis goes to respond, but before he can the sharp sound of a mechanic door and a distinct hissing sound. Followed by Noctis letting out a surprised sound and a sluggish bang as something hits the floor.

“Hey!” Gladio calls up the stairs, making his way over, “Are you okay?”

A beat of silence, and then Noctis’ voice echoes from behind the pillar, “Y-yeah I’m fine but…” he clears his throat, “uh, You guys should probably just come see this.”

Ignis shares a quick glance before pressing forwards up the winding stairs, Gladio hot on his tail.

The stairs lead directly to the second row of pods. Noctis is knelt down in front of one and There’s steam curdling off the lifted door, indicating that it had just opened.

Ignis, who is a few paces ahead stops dead in his tracks, “Six.” he breathes.

From the pod leaks a clear green goo, slowly spreading across the floor. And Noctis is just letting it get all over his legs, The sight makes Gladio’ throat tighten. He’s never seen anything like the substance on the floor, for all he knew it could be dangerous, or even deadly.

“Get away from there!” Gladio yells and Noctis turns swiftly, blinking up at him for a moment before retreating back a few paces, dragging something along with him. Gladio is about to pull him back by the scruff of his royal neck but then he catches a flash of blonde hair.

Noctis is cradling a skinny, pale, and very much naked young man who is absolutely covered in the goo. The implications knock the air from Gladio’s lungs.

“What did you press!” Gladio’ voice sounds shaky even to himself.

Noctis’ wide eyes swing up to look at him, “I didn’t press anything!” he defends, “I… Pulled a lever.” Gladio follows his outstretched finger to a dark red lever, now pulled in the down position, and groans.

Ignis crouches down next to the body in Noctis’ arms, but unlike the prince, he’s careful not to get any goo on his pants.

he's a walking scar. his too pale skin is absolutely covered in them. mostly thing slashes or patchy holes from all kinds of different ammunition. All of them range in size, age, and depth. His face is the only part of him mostly free. Save for an old but deep slice, that starts at his left temple and travels downwards hooking at his chin.

His hair is too long to be practical and too short to be stylish. It hangs in front of his eye. Gladio watches numbly as Noctis brushes it away.

The skin under his eyes is dark and sunken in, his face is slightly gaunt, probably from malnourishment. Gladio can see a patch of yellow at his elbows, the color shifts to all shades of purple, Gladio realizes that they’re bruises.

Both his hands are covered in them, along with his forearms and feet as if he’d been hitting and kicking endlessly at something-. Gladio glance back at the pod, and shudders. 

The second to the worst part is the tattoo on his wrist. It’s of a barcode as if he were some kind of conveyor belt item branded to be shipped off.

The worst part is the strange robotic attachments.

There's several, one on each collarbone, dug into the skin with thick scar tissue around them. Another just above his heart and from the position Gladio can see another on the base of his neck, indicating a row of them that decorate down the length of his spinal cord.

Poor fucking kid.

He knows the MT’s are soulless monsters, but to do something like this to a kid, a young man, probably even younger than Noctis? It’s eviler than Gladio could imagine, and it makes his blood boil with rage.

He gathers himself enough to pull the prince away, Noctis uncharacteristically doesn’t protest as Ignis steps in to take his place. He looks the boy over, taking off his glasses to press an ear to his chest. After a few beats, he frowns and holds his hand over his mouth.

Noctis shifts a little closer, “Is he-”

“He’s not breathing but his pulse is there,” Ignis doesn’t take his eyes away, “it’s… faint.”

Suddenly there's a determination behind his eyes, he quickly wipes the Boy’s mouth with the white sleeve of his shirt, soiling the fabric. “Gladio,” He says.

“Yes.”

“Hold him for me.”  
***

It works. It takes what feels like an eternity but finally, he shifts In Gladio’ hold. Before anyone can celebrate, he moves again, this time to sit bolt-right and knock foreheads with Ignis so firmly that an audible clunk echoes around the room. he chokes on something, and Gladio quickly turns him to the side so he can hack up the lungful of green goop onto the linoleum floor. 

He grips at his stomach, tears squeeze from the corners of his eyes from exertion. They mix in with the slime. Gladio winces at the sight, looking away as his own stomach rolls in sympathy.

“Let it all out.” he encourages awkwardly.

Ignis sits back on his legs, rubbing at his forehead, “Well, that went better than expected.”

Eventually, the kid stops choking and slumps, exhausted against Gladio’s hold. His eyes slowly make their way up to Gladio’ face, then sharpen as he focuses. They’re a bright shade of pale blue.

“Holy shit.” Noctis breaths.

“Hi.” Gladio greets, unsure what to say. The kid’s entire body goes tense and then he’s just shaking weakly, A memory of sitting up with his sister after she had a particularly bad nightmare surfaces. He feels off afterward.

The boy’s mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water… or a guy out of a goop filled pod. His eyes dart around frantically, and it feels like he’s trying to push away from Gladio’ grip but he’s feeble, and it doesn’t do much good. He tries to speak, but his voice is a cracked whisper.

“What’s he saying?!” Noctis exclaims behind him, and Gladio nearly jolts from the sudden loudness in comparison.

Ignis leans in, listening carefully, “N, H, zero, one, nine, eight, seven?” his brow furrows in confusion, “I’m sorry I’m afraid I don’t understand,”

Just then, he seems to lose his battle with consciousness. His eyes close and he goes completely limp, Gladio has to swiftly adjust to catch his head.

Noctis leans over, one hand pressed into Gladio’ shoulder. He can feel the anxious tension rolling off him in waves. “Okay, Now is he?-”

“He’s fine,” Gladio confirms, “Just conked out.”

“Holy shit,” Noctis breaths, running nervous hands through his hair, “Ignis you saved him!”

Ignis holds his hand back in front of the boy’s mouth to check his breathing and waits a moment, before releasing a short huff of relief, “So it appears, for now.”

Gladio adjusts his grip and then removes his thick jacket, the chill of the building is almost biting, and he feels a wave of empathy for the young man, naked and slathered in the cold goop. He wraps the jacket around his body, and with some help from Ignis, they manage to keep him mostly covered.

“We need to get back to the capitol before all that mouth to mouth goes to waste.” Gladio declares, Ignis hums in agreement.

“I would hate to repeat that experience, my heart can’t take more than one CPR event in a day.”

“You got him Gladdy?” Noctis asks worriedly, Gladio nods, letting Ignis help him to his feet. After all that, there’s no way he’s letting go.

***

Beep. Beep. Beep.

The sound is a steady hum in NH-01987’s ears as he’s pulled from his haze of unconsciousness. The sound is too loud to his aching head, but they aren’t like the morning bell that lets him know when to be ready for the day. He’s not sure what to do so he keeps his eyes closed and listens.

“I’ve never seen anything like this,”

A voice he’s never heard before. It’s sharp and female and whispering fiercely. He knows that he needs to speak up right away, let the human know that he’s up and functional, but before he can even force his eyes open another voice speaks up. Male this time.

“To think that the MT’s would experiment on children- turn them into monsters?”

“I know- It’s awful but, Just try to focus. And remember he could be dangerous.”

“I… yes you’re right.”

NH-01987’s mind is swimming with all the new words and information. The voices sound disturbed, possibly angry, and he doesn’t understand what they’re discussing.

Suddenly he’s too aware of the cold feeling on his back, the way his ports feel being pressed into him from laying on something flat. He can feel bands around different limbs, his arms his feet, there's one around his neck as well, probably to keep it steady. So moving isn’t an option.

He does open his eyes then and is met with a human’s face just inches from his, NH-01987 fights every urge to not flinch away at the sudden close-up, the human does not.

The man lets out a soft yelp and scrambles back away from him, the woman catches his arm, just managing to keep him from hitting a counter “Oh my god.”

“His eyes.” the other one says, sounding horrified.

[Do not startle an officer.]

NH-01987’s whole body tenses, he knows that he’s about to be Disciplined, he quickly averts his gaze, “I-I’m sorry.” he croaks out without thinking, voice breaking somewhere in the middle of the sentence.

“What did you say?” The man asks.

[Speak clearly when addressed.]

He had to do it right this time, without cracking or stuttering or mumbling so the humans could understand, he had already managed to break two rules and his eyes hadn’t even been open for a minute. “System f-functional and ready for-” the word get’s caught in his throat as a hacking fit tears through his system.

He tries to apologize again, for being insubordinate but it hurts. His throat is so, so dry like he hasn’t had any hydration fluid in a long time. He’s scared his voice will crack again if he tries to speak.

The two humans just stare at him, then the woman turns her back, pulling the man out of the room with him, big metal doors slam close as they exit.

NH-01987 blinks towards the door, confused for a moment before realizing that they had probably just left to retrieve some kind of discipline device, and would be back any moment. He swallows dryly, reprimanding himself. He needed to get himself together and obey orders, and- and… Suddenly the room feels much smaller because he can’t recall what they’re even doing to him, or how he ended up on this-where was he again?

NH-01987 throws all caution to the wind and tilts his head to the side to take stock of the room he’s in.

Harsh lights hang directly above him, NH-01987 counts four in total. The room is small but too big to be a containment pod, and the walls are a stark white with matching floors and everything is beaming against the color, his head aches fiercely.

He looks down to see that there are sharp tools lying on another table next to his, his stomach rolls at the sight. Oh.

He must be getting new modifications, He tries thinking back to the last time he was issued new mods and can’t quite recall when it had taken place. He can recall the pain though, the cutting, the burning, his involuntary screaming that was stopped by one of his commanders shoving something hard and plastic in his mouth.

Panic seizes his throat because he knows it’s about to happen again, but most likely worse, they were always worse the further in the training process you got.

NH-01987 forces himself to stay calm, but it’s impossible. His breathing isn’t working right, his vision is blurring and it hurts not having the privilege to move in such a state. But he has to get himself together, he has to before the guards come back. He is a good soldier- he-

A memory surfaces out of nowhere, of a conversation he’d overheard.

“Well, I guess this one is defective as well.”

The word rings in his ears. He’s defective.

That’s why this room is unfamiliar to him, despite all the modifications he’s already received. Because it’s not a modification room at all.

It’s a decommissioning room.

The beeping grows louder and louder, quicker too until it sounds like ringing.

Then here they come, the two humans barreling into the room again, this time followed by three more, a tall man with an odd haircut, a shorter younger man, and one wearing glass over his face. They’re all wearing black clothes. He’s sure these three are the ones who do the actual decommissioning.

He knows they’re going to be his end. Decommissioned units don’t come back, they disappear, forever and NH-01987 really doesn’t want to die.

He really doesn’t want to

[Don’t show weakness.]

“P-Please.” he tries, the effort is futile, he knows this is all futile, but desperation and panic cloud all of his logical thoughts and he finds himself heaving breaths rapidly. His lungs feel like they’re going to burst from his chest.“Please don’t! I-I can d-do better, I know I can just-”

He desperately pulls at the metal restraints, trying to get loose even though his instincts are screaming for him to stop. He feels something pop in his wrist, it burns, he yelps.

[Don’t show weakness.]

“Shit!” The tall man swears, he’s closer now, and his arms are hovering over NH-01987’s body like he’s about to do something to him. The glassed one is talking feverishly to the original two, the shortest one is loud, he seems upset. NH-01987 tries to edge away, the bands around his limbs dig into his skin, and his wrist hurts terribly at the movement but he has to get away. The woman looks down at him from the other side of the room, eyes wide.

She turns quickly, “Hold him down!” and NH-01987 can see that there’s something in her hand, it’s a long tube with a sharp needle coming from one end.

He forces back a scream.

“Okay okay, shh, come on you’re okay!” Out of nowhere, there are arms wrapped around him, he squeezes his eyes shut, and can’t help the terrified cry that comes through his mouth.

He clamps it closed, waiting for the injection. His entire body is shaking, his throat burns.

The shorter one comes into view, “We’re trying to help you!” Of course, that’s what he would think, the decommissioning process was the best thing for them, it was going to help him, just not in the way he wanted. He wanted to live.

“I promise I-I can be useful” he manages, although every word cuts like a knife. His voice is harsh and whispered he doubts they can hear him over the beeping and the yelling, still he tries, “p-please let me prove it”

The injection doesn’t come, not yet, Instead the bands are removed and the surrounding arms pull him up into a sitting position, restraining any more movement.

He wonders if this is the last chance he’ll have to escape. He knows he can’t make it even if he does try, He’d surely be shot before even reaching the door.

“Breath.” the man says just inches from his ear, it sounds like a direct order but he’s never been given an order like that. It’s simple. He tries to obey show that he can- but he can’t, his breathing is jagged, and it hurts, and the edges of his vision is starting to go black. He tries to swallow and chokes on nothing.

and then there it is. A sharp and quick prick in his neck, surely from not being able to follow such a simple order. NH-01987 squeezes his eyes shut letting out a harsh sob because there’s nothing they can really punish him with anymore.

[Don’t show weakness.]

He cries into the man’s shirt, mostly because he’s being held tight that he can’t turn his head, He wonders blearily how many Demerits this would get him.

He’s sure the man will strike him for it but he doesn’t. Instead, he pets the back of his head, in a way that almost feels nice.

The tears that fall from his eyes are the first he’s cried in forever, the feeling of them rolling down his cheeks is absolutely foreign to him. The man actually wipes them away with his thumbs, probably to keep them from soiling his shirt.

And finally, the process starts. First, it’s slow, beginning at the area he was pricked before spreading through his bloodstream up and down his body until he can feel the warmth in his toes. He can’t hold his limbs steady anymore and feels himself trembling. He must look pathetic. The humans are undoubtedly glad to be rid of him.

He doesn't even blame them.

Decommissioning isn’t painful like he always assumed it would. It’s just warm and numb. So numb that he stops crying and struggling, without really meaning to.

The man who has him in a deadlock’s voice changes. It’s quiet and then suddenly loud and furious, the process probably didn’t go as smoothly as usual.

NH-01987 feels a tiny thread of satisfaction at that.

He’s being laid back down again, and the shift between the warmth of the human holding him and the cold table is harsh and awful and disorienting. It feels like something is slowly pulling him underwater, but his limbs aren’t working, and he can’t force himself to swim up. NH-01987 is done fighting, and shuts his eyes just as the white room closes in black all around him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NH-01987 can tell right away that he’s not in a containment pod. If he were it would be pitch black all around him, and he’d be able to feel his own breath bouncing back and forth off the walls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to edit this chapter and accidentally deleted it so this is a reupload I'm so dumb I'm screaming

Selene, the lead scientist, brushes her caramel hair behind her ear, as she hands the clipboard over to Cor. He takes it from her, and exams the diagram of an MT unit that's displayed on blue paper and labeled in sloppy cursive writing.

Cor and Monica had been sent to the medical bay to assess the situation. It's one that Cor is very familiar with, in the lower quarters of the castle barracks, where soldiers go if they catch a sickness or become injured during training on the castle grounds. The medical center had not been used for anything serious in weeks and for that Cor is thankful since that means it's completely empty and should stay that way. Somehow it makes the boy laying in the bed seem smaller. Selene pulls him onto his side not bothering to avoid the deep purple bruises on his arms, he winces in his sleep.

“Watch it! Can’t you see he’s injured there.”

She blinks at him and adjusts her grip, moving the boy so that Cor has a full view of his mangled back. Monica rubs a hand over her mouth at the sight.

“You see these ports here?” Selene tips her head towards the diagram and Cor forced his eyes away from all that horrible scar tissue and inhuman attachments to follow along. “They have many functions, and connect to nerve centers along the Unit, as you can see, these are almost identical to the ones in the diagram.” She speaks about him like he's a frog in a high school science class she can't wait to dissect, but she is right. The attachments are exactly the same, despite looking larger on the boy's small frame.

“The main difference,” she continues, “Is that it’s all seem to be benign, completely non-functional opposed to active.”

“And,” Cor starts, “what exactly does that mean? They’re obviously not there for decoration.”

Selene shakes her head, “I believe they’ve just not been activated yet. The scar tissue around them suggests that they’re fairly new, and I believe that the subject needs to ‘wear them in’ so to speak.” Cor hates what she’s implying,

“So, you think they Nif’s were- are turning people… into Mt’s?”

Selene purses her lips, “I’m not sure If that is the case or not. But the more pressing matter is how it could be dangerous. I’m not even sure if it’s fully human... or human at all.”

Cor blinks at her, “Six, how can you say that?”

She doesn’t turn her gaze away from the boy as she (more delicately) rolls him onto his back, the attachments over his chest now fully visible. The boy is shaking slightly, his eyebrows pinched together in discomfort and Cor can’t blame him. The room is icy even with a full set of clothes on and he was merely in a pair of borrowed chocobo boxers, held together with safety pins around his thin waist.

“Looks can be deceiving, Marshal.”

Cor huffs air through his nose, “Yeah, speaking of, he’s shaking like a leaf, cover him back up, please.”

“But I still need to show you-”

Monica puts down her clipboard, “We’ve seen enough.”

Selene stares at them for a moment, and Cor almost takes the liberty of doing it himself, and then she’s pulling the blankets back over him. He lets out a small sigh in his sleep, his face goes slack ones again.

“I trust you’ve both read the accounts?”

Cor folded his arms, “I read that you left a defenseless boy strapped down, half naked, and alone in a room where he had an anxiety attack and dislocated his wrist, and then you knocked him out.”

“I didn’t-” Selene pursed her lips, rubbing the spot between her eyes as if warding off an impending headache. “I sedated him so he wouldn't injure anyone in the room- or himself.”

“Yeah, great job with that one.” Cor spits, gesturing to the boys bandaged wrist.

“We have never had a case like this! I thought it could be dangerous, and the prince had barged in, what would you have me do instead? Risk his safety over an enemy combatant?!”

“He’s not!-”

Monica grabs Cor’s shoulder, and pulls him back a pace, “She’s right Marshal, I don’t like it either but until we know what this… young man is capable of, we need to be as careful as possible. Especially when the royal family is involved.

“Monica...”

Monica grips tighter, “I don't agree, but we can’t ignore the possibility that he might as well be a spy or an assassin. I know he looks and seems non-threatening, but we’re in the middle of a war and you know best of all how dirty Nif play.”

Selene nods, “And isn’t it strange that you went over the entire base, and didn’t find a single thing let alone a single unit then it-”

“He.” Cor all but growls.

“Then he, appeared?”

He opens his mouth to protest but just can’t bring himself to argue the point. He’d personally swept every inch of that place and the pods were all opaque and more importantly, closed and they had tried to open them but it was to no use. 

Ignis’ report kept haunting him, they detailed a polar opposite experience inside the base, even though no one had been seen moving inside or out, whatever the reason for his overlook, the mistake could have been the downfall of the prince and two other Kingsglaive members. Gladio, who was a close friend and deeply protective of the prince, had been so angry with the treatment of the kid. He detailed how Selene and the other doctor had actually chained him to a table earlier, They’d made the bounds so tight around his wrist that he’d managed to pull one from the socket while trying to escape in a blind panic. Cor bites his tongue, to keep from saying something regrettable.

 

“What are you planning to do with him, Selene.”

She sighs, relieved, adjusting the glasses on her face. “Well, I’m going to start by figuring out how much of it is Magitek for starters.”

Monica looks at her wearily, “How are you planning to do that?”

“Different tests, nothing that should be physically harmful to it.”

“Where is he staying?”

Selene quirks an eyebrow, “Here, of course?”

“Here?” Monica shakes her head, “You think he’s that dangerous and you want to keep him in a sickbay, no more than three floors away from the prince’s bed?”

“Well, no I thought it would be best to put him in a cell-”

“Absolutely not.”

Selene huffs, fully dropping any sense of formality she’d been carrying before. “There really is no pleasing you.” the stool made a horrible noise as it scraped across the floor when she stood. The boy in the bed winced in his sleep, Selene didn’t seem to notice. “Marshal, did you read the part of the report where I detailed his eyes.” Cor hadn’t. Selene seemed to sense it as she reached into the drawer next to her desk and pulled out an instrument then stormed over to the boy’s body.

“What are you doing-”

She pulled open one of the boy’s eyelids and pointed the device, a small flashlight, down at them. “Before you start acting like it’s a human come see this.”

His eyes are completely red, a deep clear cherry color, with a tiny ring of pale blue around the pupil, when the light is on, the ring grows larger when it’s off it shrinks back down.

Cor is mystified for just a second before steeling himself, “That doesn’t change anything.” Selene looks at Monica for some kind of support, she opens her mouth as if to say something but then closes it.

Selene lets go of his lid and throws the flashlight back into her drawer, defeated. “Well, if you don’t want him in a cell, and you don’t want him close to the prince, then he needs to be taken somewhere and watched at all times, he can’t be able to escape until we figure out exactly what it is and why he appeared at such an opportune moment of infiltration.”

“Marshal,” Monica turns to him, “I don’t think it would be wise to release too much information about him to the public as well, we should keep this matter as closely knit as possible.”

Selene offers the list of people who know, “That leaves us, the three who found him, King Regis, Adonis, the two doctors who looked over his injuries, and Clarus.” Cor is about to thank her until she goes on, “I would not mind having him stay at my apartment, as long as I can get a guard to watch over him.”

Cor gets a visual of the poor boy trapped in an unfamiliar room all day, with no company but a woman who looks at him like a science experiment and a rough forceful guard.

“Monica, You have a summit outside of the kingdom soon, don’t you?”

“Yes, I would be willing to help guard him until my departure if that’s what you wish, however, I’m afraid that will be just the next few days.” Cor scratches his chin, turning the idea over in his head. “Marshal, I think the best arrangement would be for you and the boy to come stay at my home. I don’t live too far from the castle, but he should be able to have constant surveillance between the five of us.”

Selene raises an eyebrow “-Wait”

“Then it’s settled.”

***

He can tell right away that he’s not in a containment pod. If he were it would be pitch black all around him, and he’d be able to feel his own breath bouncing back and forth off the walls. the memory makes his stomach flip.

Ever since NH-01987 was a child he’d hated them, the walls always felt like they were closing in on him and for years almost every night, he’d attempt to get out. He’d pound on walls, kick and scream until his hands were blue and his feet were swollen.

No one would ever let him out either, and he’d just be disciplined in the morning with extra laps or meal privileges lifted away. He learned his lesson for good when he’d actually broken his hands in several places, and was unable to receive any assistance until the next morning. They disciplined him by replacing some bones in his fingers with metal, he was awake for only a fraction of it before the pain caused him to blackout.

After that, he’d managed to force himself to stay as quiet as possible during the night. Sometimes he’d pass out from breathing too fast but no one found out that way, and he stopped getting demerits from it so it was better.

He swallows thickly, forcing the memories to the back of his head. The situation needs to be addressed first, if the room isn’t a containment pod, then what is it?

The walls are purple and white at the same time, He’s taken in by it, tracing along the lines with his eyes, It’s strangely beautiful but he can’t figure out the reasoning behind such an odd pattern. Perhaps it’s simply a type of sorting system? Units at different levels wore different colors so maybe that was the case here and rooms went by patterns instead.

He absentmindedly brings his hand up to brush it, his arm comes into view and he stops for a moment, surprised to see he’s not wearing typical armor, just a loose fitting top, with long sleeves. It’s soft and warm against his skin and a very beautiful shade of dark red. His body is so grimy underneath it like he hadn’t had shower privileges for a few days and hopefully, he’s not ruining the shirt by wearing it, that would be a shame.

The room is almost empty, besides the soft table he’s laying on. There’s a very strange looking white storage unit, with a door next to it and another on the far side of the room. There’s a soft cloth laying on the floor, with little fuzzy pins coming out of it. Cleaning it up would probably be for the best, but for now, he just lets it sit there on the floor. There’s also a few pictures on the wall, even though he can’t recognize what any of them are, they’re full of pretty colors odd shapes and are very nice to look at.

Soft light comes in from a rectangle on the wall, casting a strange shadow around his room, and it’s not a harsh white or sharp red like he’s used to, it’s soft and almost orange. There are little flecks dancing in it and NH-01987 watches in wonder as they dance around, before disappearing out of the lights' radius. He can feel a foggy memory rising somewhere in the back of his head, and the word ‘Sun’ comes to him.

It’s sunlight, golden natural light that comes from the sky. He blinks, Seeing sunlight was impossible because he wasn’t permitted outside of the training facility, and the whole thing is underground where it can’t reach.

A wave of memory comes over him. The small white room, the unfamiliar faces, and commanders, the horrible injection the pleading for it to stop the arms wrapped around him-

NH-01987 scrambles up to a sitting position and regrets it right away as his stomach and head throb in protest at the harsh movement. Nausea rocks through him so suddenly that he’s positive he’s going to throw up all over the nice white cloths and table he’s laying on.

He presses a hand over his mouth and clutches the cloths so tight in his other that his knuckles go white. His fingers ache but his arms hurt worse. He looks down to see what the cause is and gasps at the sight of dark ugly bruises that run up and down both forearms, It snaps him out of the blind panic he feels and thankfully, the nausea fades.

Then he notices how stiff his left hand feels. NH-01987 creases his eyebrows as he slowly lifts the end of the sleeve, there’s a thick wrapping of something hard around his wrist, extending up to the base of his fingers. It itches, enough to be annoying but not worse than that. He doesn’t dare try to remove it, unsure of what discipline looked like for something like that would even look like.

What- what even happened. He was supposed to be dead, wasn’t he?

He doesn’t feel dead.

NH-01987 looks around the room, it’s a nice room, nicer than he’s ever seen before, and softer too. The thing he’s laying on looks like a medical wing table, only it’s soft underneath him instead of cold and the air smells so clean, and a little like the storage unit he’d had to clean once, dusty. The smell was dust. It’s sort of a nice smell. There's something covering him, even softer than the table and light enough to pick up. It’s warm, so warm that he has to resist the urge to pull it closer to him, in case this is some kind of test.

Oh.

He was so sure that he was being decommissioned earlier, but … maybe that wasn’t the case. The conversation he overheard was surely about him but maybe this was a final test instead. A sort of simulation to see if he would actually be deemed as commissionable or not. If that was the case none of what was around him was real, just a virtual simulation. That would explain how he was no longer underground.

A sick flutter of relief spreads through his body but is quickly replaced by a clutch of fear when he remembers how he acted earlier. He surprised a commander, couldn’t say his number without his voice breaking and worst of all he cried. In front of at least five witnesses. His head spins with calculations, how many demerits was that? It had to be at least twenty, probably more. Whatever the case he may be able to turn this simulation around. But that means that he needs to be perfect from here on out, maybe if he manages to make as little slip-ups as possible he’ll still have a chance to pass.

[units are to be up on their feet at all times.]

He remembers water getting thrown over his head, so cold that his bones felt frozen. He has to get up, so he does.

It’s a painfully slow affair, his feet are just as bruised as his arms, but at least they’re not swollen. Pressing them against the cold hard floor is still painful. He grits his teeth and bites his lip so hard he actually tastes blood. Thinking back he can’t remember ever being so weak that standing was an ordeal. Eventually, NH-01987 manages to get to his feet with the help of the wall and he spends a good portion of time leaning against it, hoping that his feet would just go numb or at least stop throbbing. They don’t. The pain gets worse if anything and there are tears welling in his eyes.

But he doesn’t shed them because he’s being monitored, and he’s already at least thirty demerits deep in disciplines, so he wipes his eyes quickly and he takes a step.

It’s a mistake. The second one foot is tasked to hold his whole body, his weight comes out from underneath him and he collapses with no grace at all, even managing to hit his side on the sharp end of a table on the way down. Pain explodes in the area, and the thump he makes when he hits the ground rattles the entire room.

The door swings open, and a man, one with cropped brown hair that he hasn’t seen before, comes stomping in.

“What happened?!” he asks, eyes scanning the room until they land on NH-01987. He looks absolutely infuriated.

He needs to answer right away, but his lungs feel too big for his chest, and breathing is impossibly hard. The commander makes his way over, it’s hard not to flinch away as he does, but the commander is not deterred, pulling NH-01987 up painfully by his bruised arm. He can’t help but yelp.

“Shit, sorry, sorry,”

Sorry? Was that the commander's way of asking for an apology?

“I-” NH-01987 tries to apologize but instead his throat rebels, seizing up from the dryness. He tries to swallow to stop the fit in its tracks, but it just makes him cough more. It’s the kind of horribly deep shuddering coughs that take his whole body with them. He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to bring his arm to his mouth to stifle the noise before he’s disciplined but the commander still holds him

At one point someone else comes into the room, a woman, one he hasn’t seen yet, and then leaves after sharing a few hurried words.

The commander rubs NH-01987’s back as he rides out the coughs. He desperately tries to get himself together so he won’t be disciplined, and then he feels the hands on him shifting. He knows this time not to struggle and lets himself be adjusted so that he’s sitting upright. The man rubs circles into his back. That added with the new position actually does help.

It helps.

Finally, finally, he’s able to get it together.

Every bone in his body, even the metal ones are dead near drained afterwards, along with his head, it’s hard to focus without his vision swimming. The only reason why he’s not keeled over is the person holding him upright, and his hand that still hasn’t left the center of NH-01987’s shaking back.

He swallows and tastes blood, there's a moment where he considers spitting the taste out, but the space under him is already splattered with small globs of dark red substance. After a moment of wondering how they got there, it strikes him that the splatters had come from his mouth and probably ruined the commander's floor.

A small sob escapes his mouth before he knows it’s sitting there, and he clamps his hand tightly over it to keep any more from slipping out.

“Six.” the man curses, “you’re okay, it’s okay.” the words don’t really mean anything.

He forces himself to swallow the rest of the blood, shuddering as it goes down, “I-I’m sorry.” his voice is so cracked it’s unrecognizable as his own. “I d-didn’t mean-”

“It’s okay kid, don’t worry. Let’s get you back to bed, you really shouldn’t be up right now.”

NH-01987 speaks without thinking, “Bed?” The man raises an eyebrow, his eyes glance to the soft table and then back. Oh, was it called a bed? “Because I am functional sir, r-ready for duty.”

The man fixes him with an incredulous stare, NH-01987 feels sick panic welling up inside him, it wasn’t what the man wanted to hear, it makes his chest hurt.

The woman comes back then, walks towards NH-01987 without any hesitation and he tries his best not to move this time, he needs to be obedient. He doesn’t look her in the eyes. His entire body is seized with a horrible sense of dread but he needs to do what she tells him, even if that means more injections. It’s the only way he’ll avoid being decommissioned.

“I got you this.”

He glances up at her so fast his head spins. It’s a little cloth, drenched in hydration fluid.

“For your face.” the man says. He just wants to suck the hydration fluid from it instead, but he does as he’s told, shakily accepting the cloth from her hand and then wiping his face of the blood.

His voice betrays him, “I’ll clean it up, I’m n-not.” he stops talking when he sees the look on the man’s face, he looks devastated. His stomach rolls, maybe the table and the cloths were hard to obtain or some kind of human custom that he was not aware of. Maybe they were special to the humans, or even sacred. “I’m sorry, the floor-”

“Seriously, I already said not to worry about it, And my name isn’t sir it’s Cor, call me that instead.”

“And I’m Monica.” the woman adds. She’s a strong looking woman, with shoulder length gray hair, and she smiles although her eyebrows are turned up in sadness? It’s probably a front to trick him. She leaves soon after and NH-01987 can’t imagine what kind of device she must be retrieving to discipline him with. He trembles from the thought of it.

“Hey, I need you to get back into bed.” Cor orders and NH-01987 can’t bring himself to meet his eyes. He feels tears welling up again, his lip trembles, so he bites it. Standing up seems impossible, but he needed to prove how obedient he is. He nods and grabs the edge of the bed with his good hand. “Whoa,” the commander halts him, he goes rigid, confused now as he was just following the order. “c’mon your feet look awful, I’ll help you.”

Was he supposed to refuse help to show how useful he could be? Was he being mocked? There’s no way to tell for sure and his brain is so muddled and exhausted that it’s hard to find a place to start figuring it out.

“Here,” Cor offers, and then slips one arm under NH-01987’s legs and another around his back, and just lifts. He’s deposited back into bed before he can even register what happened, getting propped up with the soft thing that was originally under his head. Cor looks at NH-01987 almost expectantly,

“Thank y-you sir.” Cor frowns, “Cor?”

He nods, seemingly satisfied Then he kneels on the floor, and begins to mop NH-01987’s blood from it. Looking down from the warmth of the bed makes the experience nothing short from surreal and It marks the moment that he is absolutely sure this is all a simulation.

Soon after, the woman comes back, with a cup of hydration fluid, and a plate of something square and flaky.

He hadn't realized just how hungry he actually is until then as his stomach twists painfully and his mouth feels even dryer than before, as he longingly watches a drop of condensation slide down the glass and hit the floor.

He’s so sure that the woman had gotten it for herself, to drink in front of NH-01987 as discipline, that when she reaches out and hands him the cup and plate, NH-01987 can’t help but stare at her wide eyed.

“Go on, drink it.”

It’s some kind of trap, he knows it. The fluid would surely be poisoned or maybe contain more of the sedative in it or something, but NH-01987 is so thirsty.

He takes a big sip of it, and it’s cold and he chokes on it a little but he manages to drain it all before anyone can change their mind and take it away. The relief is immediate and NH-01987 can’t help but whimper at the feeling of the fluid soothing his scratchy throat. He knows he looks completely pathetic and he almost can’t bring himself to care.

It’s empty too soon, and he stares at it, wishing that it would refill itself, but it won’t and he’s probably just poisoned himself. The relief feels almost worth it. He shakily hands the glass back to Monica, who takes it and smiles at him, before nodding down at the plate.

“You must be hungry.”

NH-01987’s chest feels tight, he looks down at the little shapes on the plate, they're white and slathered with something brown and creamy. Was he supposed to eat them?

Surely it was a mistake, Protein bars were longer and there was always only one per unit. Maybe they made them differently in other training centers? Or, the simulation had mistaken it for these tiny things. There’s a strange smell coming from them, nothing like the dried smell that came from the bars, he can’t place it but it’s nice. He lifts one by the corner, careful not to disturb the cream.

Maybe it was poisoned and he was supposed to recognize it wasn’t his to eat, the hydration fluid was familiar after all, but this? NH-01987 stops with the square halfway in his mouth, before putting it back onto the plate. He puts a hand over his churning stomach, in hopes that it will shut up and forget about eating. Monica waits a few more moments before reaching forward and taking the plate from his lap.

“That’s alright.” she offers another disingenuous smile, “You don’t have to if you’re not feeling well.”

So, he had done the right thing by refusing after all. He silently chalks up the first success as Monica puts the plate on the storage unit. Cor, sighs, and NH-01987 manages not to flinch at the sudden sound this time, Maybe he’d be able to do it after all.

“Hell, You must be confused,” he is. “And probably scared to death,” that too. “But I think we’ll save the explanation for a little later, after you sleep off the rest of the medicine.”

He remembers screaming.

“That’s probably for the best.” Monica agrees.

And kicking and so much pain.

NH-01987’s throat seizes at the thought of being put into a containment pod. He’d never fully gotten over the fear, but it had slowly become more manageable. Now it felt like when he was a kid and NH-01987 is sure he won’t be able to stay there without freaking out.

Cor seems to sense the shift because he’s suddenly closer, hands hovering in front of him as he talks, and that’s when NH-01987 realizes that he’s breathing too fast. “Whoa, what just happened?”

NH-01987 rubs his neck, “I d-don’t want to sleep-” What the hell was he saying, he says it properly, “I-mean, I’m st-still functional sir.”

Cor’s mouth opens slightly, “What?”

“Unit NH-01987 is still functional f-for assignment.” he was beginning to believe that the broken speech was permanent, he couldn’t even get through a sentence without stuttering.

“That’s the number on his bar code.” Monica sounds hollow and distant to his ears. The whole scene does. NH-01987 wonders numbly if the simulator is malfunctioning.

Cor shakes his head, “God, that’s… Look kid,” NH-01987 looks, “You’re safe now, You’re not at some base, I’m not ‘Sir’ or ‘Commander’ I’m just Cor, sometimes Marshal. But not to you.” NH-01987 doesn’t understand but he nods, “Monica and I are going to take care of you and make sure whoever hurt you, can’t do it again.”

“Marshal-” Cor shoots the woman a look before she can continue and NH-01987 is too busy swimming in his own thoughts to really catch it. This simulation is painfully confusing, and he’s starting to believe that it’s a test of the mind rather than the body. That revelation doesn’t help the strange distant feeling he has if anything it makes it more present.

“Okay.” He says, hoping to please the simulation because agreeing with a commander is something that was almost always acceptable.

Cor squints down at him like he’s staring right through him and for a dizzying moment he wonders if Cor can actually his thoughts. NH-01987 wants to crawl out of his body, but he instead sits as still as possible, Cor’s hand comes away. “You said you didn’t want to sleep earlier, is there a reason for that?”

NH-01987 doesn’t want to lie, so he tells them, “I-I’m afraid that I will not be able to handle it right now.” they both stare at him, he feels like a child, pathetic and ignorant and small. “I don’t… close spaces are hard for me to deal with, and my f-feet, I don’t think I can stand for that long-” He cuts himself off, he was trying to be honest but ended up just complaining. Commanders hated complaining.

“Close spaces?” Monica echoes, “What are you referring to?”

Maybe the space wasn’t actually as close as he felt it to be, that made him look even more ignorant. He closed his eyes. “I’m sorry, the containment pods simply feel small to me, like they’re closing in, I-I’ll comply with what you ask.”

Cor’s face is scrunched into a wince, “We’re not going to put you in an uh, 'containment pod’ either, when I say you’re safe I mean it alright?”

There’s that word again, safe. He’s so confused.

“But... you want me t-to sleep.”

“And you will, on the bed,” Cor pats his hand against the cloths, “right here.”

NH-01987 knows it’s too good to be true, to be able to fall asleep on something so comfortable. Cor and Monica help him get situated back into a laying down position, he should probably refuse their help, as it had been the right thing to do last time. But he’s too tired to resist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anyway, thanks for reading!!! I appreciate feedback/comments so much and you can hit me up on tumblr @poshiiwrites if you feel like asking me smth or whatever <3


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I'm sorry," she says.  
> He doesn't understand why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait! I had a lot of things come up over the holidays, and got really nit picky with the events in this chapter. Honestly, This chapter and the ones from now on will probably have a few more mistakes than the first two because I really want to focus on getting the words I want to write out there and completing this story. Hopefully over the course of writing this I'll become a better writer because honestly that's the goal! I hope you enjoy this chapter, the next one will be more lengthy. 
> 
> OH AND HAPPY NEW YEAR!~

The moment NH-01987 leans back against the stack of soft cloths a loud buzzing envelops the room, he jumps back up like he’s been burned because surely, that was, in fact, a test, and there’s no way he’s actually going to be allowed to sleep in a place so comfortable.

“Whoa!” Monica presses her hand on his shoulder, holding him in place easily, and ‘okay now’ he thinks. This is where it begins.“Cor-” 

the male commander starts rummaging frantically at his clothes, he reaches down into his back pocket and pulls out a sleek looking device. NH-01987 fully expects him to advance but instead, he just flips it open and holds it up to his ear, the buzzing stops immediately. 

“Hello, this is Marshall- you-.” Monica stares at him, but NH-01987 can see that the corners of her mouth are turned downwards in a tight frown. “No we agreed- no.” He shoots Monica a quick look before turning his back on them and stepping outside, closing the door behind him.

NH-01987 is frozen where he sits, too afraid to do anything but try and keep his breathing even.

Monica sighs, “I have no idea why he chose that ringtone, it’s rather jarring isn’t it?” she asks, NH-01987 blinks Opens his mouth to reply but cannot think of anything to say. “I’m beginning to believe he just doesn’t know how to change it…” She trails off, NH-01987 realizes that he’d been letting his confusion show, and quickly lets his expression fall into a more neutral one. 

Her eyes glance down to where her hand is resting, he hopes that she can’t feel how fast his heart is beating underneath it. 

She removes it quickly, “Let’s get you settled then,”

NH-01987 nods shakily in compliance. 

***

He watches as Monica tucks the cloths in around the bed, carefully lifting corners of the soft part to push the edges of cloth underneath. It tightens them around his torso and legs, an obvious restraining method he thinks. But even then, NH-01987 is sure he could simply pull them off from around himself. It’s most likely just to let him know that he shouldn’t get up, instead of something meant to physically hold him still. NH-01987 is almost grateful this is the method she’s choosing, it’s much better than the cold metal of the bands he was put in earlier.

“-Okay?” 

Suddenly, NH-01987 is aware that the commander has been talking to him, it’s impossible to tell how much he’d failed to hear. She’s staring though, in a way that seems to expect an answer it makes NH-01987 feel uncomfortable in his own skin, like he wants to crawl out of it. 

“Were you listening?” Monica asks, there’s something unreadable about the way her face shifts, NH-01987 has never had a commander so emotive with their expressions. He was used to either neutral or angry, all these new looks are confusing, and he kind of wishes the simulation would have given him a more standard commander he could actually read. 

It takes him another moment to realize that she’s waiting for him to respond, “Yes.” he breathes quickly, he’s lying without really meaning to, knowing full well that lying is worse than admitting the truth because the commanders always know the truth. 

Monica sets her jaw, “are you going to answer my question?”

NH-01987 stiffens, swallows around the lump his throat, “your question?”

Monica nods, “Yes.” 

He has to admit it now, these things only get worse the longer they go, NH-01987 feels himself shaking where he sits, he can’t imagine what kind of discipline is waiting for him. It was always clear at the base, but here, in this odd room, nothing’s for certain. 

“Hey.” Monica takes a step closer, NH-01987 moves back, the cloths pull at his waist as he does, but they might have well of burned him, he shouldn’t move away he knows this,He knows. 

“I-I” NH-01987’s face feels hot, there’s tears welling in his eyes again and he wants to just slap himself for everything. For crying so much, and lying, he’s just so stupid. “Apologies.” He chokes out, Monica’s eyebrows jut up, “I lied to you.” 

She opens her mouth and closes it again, pressing her lips into a thin line, “I was hoping that wasn’t the case. Lying is just going to make this whole process much harder so it’s better if you come clean now.”

He nods, he knows.

“You should tell me now.”

Cold shame pools in his chest, of course, Monica would want him to say it out loud. There were no other units to be witness to his insubordination but somehow this was worse. “I said that I was listening to you, but I was not.”

Monica blinks, and stares at him for a few moments, her stiff posture lessens slightly, “Oh,” it doesn’t seem to be the response she was looking for, which is strange because it’s surely the truth. “That’s it?”

She’s mocking him, “Yes.” NH-01987 is sure of it this time. He forces his eyes down, “I’m willing to accept a-any form of discipline, Ma’am.” 

“Discipline?” She says the word like it’s new to her. “What do you mean by Discipline?”

NH-01987 scrunches his eyebrows up, he can’t understand, surely she’s familiar with the protocol, all humans are. Perhaps she just wants him to say it, “I-lied, I should be disciplined by a higher up. So I won’t repeat the mistake.”

She just stands there, her lips pursed together, “How did they- What methods did they use to do that.”

NH-01987 squeezes the cloths under his hands tightly and flips the words around in his head until they make a little sense, and he can figure out how to answer. ‘How did former commanders discipline you’. 

He can’t help but trip over his words, forming the sentence and explaining the process to someone who should have done it a thousand times over is almost painful. His mouth feels dry, “Physical c-correction Ma’am, there are many different f-forms.”

Monica actually lets out a small puff of air at his answer, and NH-01987 wonders if he’d gotten it wrong for a terrifying moment, but then she nods at him, her face remains carefully neutral. “Would you mind… naming a few of the forms, specifically?” 

He feels his bottom lip wobble so he bites it, forcing it to stay still, then lists some of the ways. Most commanders simply struck them, be it with their hand or their baton or something else. Other times he was denied rations or hydration fluid. Sometimes they cut him or gave him a wound that was painful but not fatal, only treating it properly the next day, after a night of staying put in containment. 

blood coating the walls.

He feels numb as he lays them all out to her, and he’s not sure if it feels better or worse than the painful edge they had at first. 

She doesn’t move or speak until he’s finished explaining, and by then there’s a distant ringing in his ears, and a cramp in his stomach so bad that he can’t help but sit doubled over on himself. He waits for her to tell him to sit up straight, but she doesn’t. 

“I’m sorry.” She says.

He doesn’t understand why. 

+++

To his relief, she doesn’t ask any more questions, and she seems to have forgotten her duty because she leaves without disciplining him. She might come back later and do it but for now, NH-01987 forces it to the back of his mind and focuses on trying to figure out his situation. How to go about acting in front of the two simulated commanders, and counting demerits in his head. 

He has so many already. 

Monica had told him to sleep before she left, telling him that she’ll be outside if he needs anything, and they’ll talk more with cor tomorrow. NH-01987 doesn’t really want to see either of them again, simulations were always easiest when he only had himself to worry about. And cor was big and very intimidating. 

They both were, but something about the way Monica had looked... He shakily takes a breath, leaning his head back into the soft thing under it. He knows he’s supposed to be sleeping, it was an order. But his mind doesn’t get the message, because his head is absolutely racing with events of the last few days. 

And then there’s the bed, though soft and more comfortable than NH-01987 can remember being in recent years, was a constant physical reminder of his situation. He almost wanted to roll over to sleep on the floor instead, but that just wasn’t an option. He couldn’t risk one of them finding him like that. 

he can hear them talking in low voices outside but can’t fully make out what either of them is saying. NH-01987 very slowly leans back against the pillow, afraid that if he makes too much noise one of them will come back and get angry with him.

He feels far from ready to sleep but has no energy to fight the exhaustion that creeps up around the edges of the soft bed, and suddenly he's drifting off.

***

Monica decides that tea would be the best option for the two of them right now. She rummages her cupboard until she finds an old, but not expired, a box of peppermint before warming up two cups of water and placing the bags inside. She puts one adjacent to her seat at the dining room table and waits for cor to come back, taking long sips of her own drink. 

She feels shaky holding the glass. It was good that he was so easy to get information out of, but at the same, he’d been almost too cooperative, and even with all the different scars lining his skin, she’d hoped that the nif weren’t the ones that had given them to him. She was wrong of course.

She waits until Cor comes through the back door clutching his phone so hard that you’d think he was trying to strangle it. He stops when he sees her sitting there, before taking a seat across from her and rubbing the spot between his eyes in frustration.

“Who was it.” Monica ventures, glad that her voice hadn’t succumbed to the shaky feeling inside of her.

Cor lifts a brow at her, “take a wild guess.”

“Selene?”

He groans slightly at the name, Monica takes it as a yes, “What did she want?” 

“Here, see for yourself,” he says, flipping through his phone until he turns it to her and shows a list pulled up It’s a list of questions she wants the kid to answer. Most of them are simple like How old are you or what is your name but the further down the list she goes the more intense they get. When she reads the last one her mouth feels dry. She already knows the answer.

She hands the phone back and Cor puts it down on the table with a sigh. “Selene also wants me to bring him in for ‘testing’. That woman has no sympathy, I mean, she saw all the scars… he’s obviously been through enough already.”

Monica puts her tea on the table, not bothering to use one of the coasters, “I don’t like it either but, We don’t know anything about him. The tests might help with that.”

Cor sighs, slumping against the table, visibly exhausted from the day. “I know but, that doesn’t mean I have to like it.” The sun was finally setting over the horizon that was visible through the front windows. It cast shadows on his face. He looked older in this lighting, the gray in his hair standing out more against the warm hues. 

He plays with the string hanging out of his cup, his eyebrows pinched in thought. She’s known him long enough to gather how worried he is about the kid. She too didn’t want to imagine him under Selene’s demands, but it was inevitable. None of them had any training with MT technology, let along units, besides combat. They simply were not qualified to handle the situation alone. 

They still weren’t fully sure that he wasn’t a threat. Of course, he seemed human, he breathed like a human had a heartbeat like one. But then there were things like his eyes, which were unlike anything she’d seen. The way he spoke was far from normal, it ranged drastically between stuttering and sharp mechanical monotoned, almost as if he were some ai in need of repairs.

He could be dangerous, but just the thought has her doubting. He just seemed so scared, and small, most of his ribs were visible underneath the outfit they’d placed him in, and his eyes got watery fast. Holding him down was too easy, and the face he’d made when Cor had allowed him to stay in bed. Each time someone touched him he flinched away as if expecting even a gentle touch to burn him.

But then, given what he’d told her that wasn’t surprising in the least.

Cor takes a long sip of his tea, and Monica waits for him to finish it before telling him about their conversation. 

***

Mt’s always wear the same skin-tight suit. The only time it ever came off fully was once a week during full cleans or showers, when the humans would force them into lines and one by one have them stand against the wall and hose them down with a mixture of hydration fluid and rich smelling chemical. NH-01987 hated the lingering feeling afterward, his skin always becomes red and raw and uncomfortable to be in. 

The feeling would last all night, and the liquid would stay trapped underneath his suit, chilled in the cold air of the pod. The only semblance of relief would be crouching down into yourself, and holding your knees tight, trying to keep some kind of warmth intact. NH-01987 could only stand it for a few moments at the time, because being lower to the ground did nothing but heighten the sense of being inside the pod. Eventually, the chemical would evaporate, and the fumes would be released when they were let out the next day. 

It takes him until the next time he wakes up and lays there for a while to realize it’s why he’s so comfortable. There’s no suit between him and the human clothes he’s in, the fabric can simply cling to his skin, it’s so warm. It’s warm and he’s still in the simulation.

There’s no light in the room anymore, and for a dizzying second, he feels like he’s underground again. And then he notices the window, and the soft silver light casting a patch of squares on the floor. It’s dark but yes, it’s the same room as before. The one with the bed that he’d been allowed to fall asleep on. It’s a relief, that at least something was staying consistent through the slew of all the things he had to keep up with to pass the simulator's test. 

It takes a while for his head to clear fully. The day before is a blur when he thinks back on it. It’s filled with half-consciousness, and yelling and becomes more clear the further he goes. He glances over cautiously to the spot on the floor where he’d spilled blood, but the area is as clean as the rest of the floor. Because the male commander cleaned it, he thinks in a rush. It seems so foreign to him even now, that he wouldn’t be told to mop it up himself. 

Where are the commanders?

The thought sends a chill of anxiety down to his stomach. They’re not in the room with him, maybe one of them is outside? He listens, for a long time, long enough for the darkness to slowly become brighter. he strains to hear so hard that his ears start ringing, there are a few small creaks, but nothing that even sounds close to a person walking around. 

Where are they? Was he supposed to get up and do something? He can’t remember any instructions other than sleep, but he had been so exhausted before maybe he’d missed a direction? 

He just can’t remember, His throat tightens, and tears well in his eyes, his chest feels tight, like there’s a band slowly closing in around it, he feels like if he doesn’t sit up he’ll suffocate, so he pushes himself up by his elbows, and forces himself to take one long breath, and It helps. The pressure lessens and the ache turns numb. 

Maybe he should get up. His feet are aching underneath the blankets, pulsing with every beat in his chest. He can’t imagine the pain standing on them would bring, and is honestly scared to look at the awful condition they must be. He swallows and slowly lifts the covers up enough to see them, they’re bruised, purple and yellow, the sight makes his mouth feel fuzzy, so he gently lowers the edge of fabric back down. 

He closes his eyes and leans back again, exhausted, despite the sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They might be in over their heads on this one

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: This chapter involves references to sexual abuse. There will be no graphic scenes or descriptions of what happened to Prompto but there will be mentions and hints to it. as well as behaviors relating to it. This fic is almost solely about recovery from a bad situation/ an abusive past but If themes of this nature bother you I advise clicking away now thank you.

NH wakes up disoriented. He’s upside down on the floor, one of his legs sticking up against the bed, the blankets had followed him, gathered all around his body and in clumps over the floor. His head is the clearest it’s been since he’s been in the strange room, there’s no more fuzz around his vision and his thoughts form together in the right order.

  
He remembers what the female commander had said, about letting the medicine wear off. He couldn’t recall taking medicine the or now but he gathers it had worn off, and now everything was sharper, including the pain. His legs ache. Every beat of his heart causes his feet to pulse along with it, all the way up to his knees. He thinks the pain woke him up for a moment but then realizes something.

  
He has to go to the bathroom.

  
NH looks around the room, usually, mt’s would have designated times, but here it didn’t seem to be the case. Monica had told him the bathroom was in the room connecting the one he was in. she didn't say when or if he could use it. If he was quiet he could sneak in and out before someone noticed.

  
He considered not going for it for a while but had no idea how much time it would be until someone came back into the room and let him. He wasn’t sure how long he could wait.  
So, NH carefully inches himself forwards until his leg falls off the bed and he can ease it down with his good hand so it doesn’t bang against the floor. He turns himself over, into a crawling position. His limbs are weak and shake with every move, he’s freezing cold now that there’s nothing covering him but he manages to cross the short distance to what has to be the bathroom door.

  
Luckily the door handle is within reach and it doesn’t take much to turn and push it open. The moment he does, however, a loud creek echoes around the room. NH stops dead in his tracks, the fingers that are wrapped around the knob shake, everything around him wavers and blurs, he forces himself to let go, and press his forehead against the floor, being as still and quiet as possible until the feeling passes.

  
It does after a few moments.

 

Wasted moments.

  
He pushes open the door as quietly as he can, pausing every time it creaks, just to make sure no one is coming, and maneuvers inside. For a split second, he thinks that he must have gotten the wrong door.

  
The room is large, clean white counters. It’s nicer than any bathroom he’s ever been in, and just like the room where he had slept, was more detailed and ornate as well. There were a lot of things that didn’t seem to have any real purpose. At the far end, there was a big bowl- ‘bathtub’ comes out from somewhere deep in his subconscious so suddenly that it actually makes him jump.

  
So that’s a bathtub. He has no idea how he knows that information but bathtubs do belong in bathrooms, it’s a method of cleaning that humans use. So he is in the right place after all. He can see someone laying in it, but can’t imagine it would be very comfortable to lay in cold hydration fluid.

  
He thinks, for a troubling few moments that there may not be a toilet but he finds it hidden behind a small wall. It seems inefficient to hide something like that, but he decides not to dwell on it right now, he didn’t have any time to waste.

***

  
Opening the door a second time is just as painful, every creek elicits a new batch of anxiety. Eventually, he’s back in the main room, and the door is safely shut behind him. He takes a deep breath, to try and keep quiet and from going ragged. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees that the sky has changed.

It’s a dark shade of blue, the lower parts of it slightly lighter. The sun disappears every night and is replaced by the moon, he knows that it comes back in the morning, the sky becomes bright in the morning so it must be in the process.

  
There are white wispy things, dangling in the air, he knows the name of them, it’s right on the tip of his tongue.

  
Clouds! He smiles, They’re clouds. The word comes to the front of his head out of nowhere, he should have no clue about them, he hadn’t left the training facility his entire life, and he’d never been told about them, but he knows their name, and he knows what a bathtub is.

He wonders if the simulation is pumping these things into his brain. He couldn’t think of a reasonable explanation otherwise. He wonders if he’ll remember what they’re called after the simulation, or what they look like. His throat feels tight so he swallows, and a thick tear slides down his cheek.

  
He almost decides it might be worth it to watch them as long as he can, try to remember what they look like. The next time he’s in his containment pod he can think back to them, they could help him sleep better…

  
After a few wistful moments he has to decide that the risk is too great, so he forces the stupid idea away and he makes his way back to bed.

***

  
How he was supposed to physically get back into bed was something he hadn’t thought through.

  
He tries to lift himself up, by pulling on the blankets for support, but the moment he manages to get steady on his feet, the blanket unhooks from its corner, and he goes with it, he’s forced to put all his weight on his mangled feet, it feels like he’s stepping on shards of glass. NH bites down on his lip to keep from screaming and tastes blood. He forces himself to collapse forwards so that he’s half on the bed. He pushes his head into the blankets, grips at the sides of the bed as tightly as he can and rides out the initial shocks of pain. Eventually, it lessens and he forces himself the rest of the way up. And lord does it hurt. He doesn’t dare let out even a whimper, as he positions himself the right way again, and pulls the blankets back over his body.

  
Chills that seem to come from the inside out shake him, and the warm blankets don’t do anything to help with this type of cold. He assesses the damage. The place his head had been is covered in spit and tears and a little bit of blood from his mouth, but he’s back into bed. The blankets are dark from patterns in certain places so the stain isn’t too noticeable, at least not to him, but he’s not sure if the simulation will be able to catch it.

  
NH puts his hands over his face and rubs at a headache forming in his temples.

  
***

  
The door finally opens about half an hour later. NH forces himself up, to lean against the bed to be at some kind of attention. He tries not to look too suspicious or draw any attention to the stain.

  
When he looks up the male commander is standing there. He looks tired, there are little purple circles around his eyes and his hair is slightly more disheveled than the day before. He carries two bundles of something with him.

“Good morning.” he says, “How are you feeling.”

  
“Ready for assignment,” he says, and his voice sounds raw like he’d been screaming. Even though he knows for sure that he had been doing everything not to. Cor seems confused for a split second, before sighing.

  
NH can’t tell if it’s a good or bad kind of sigh.

  
“Glad to hear it, so I need you to do something.” NH’s chest goes tight, he knew something like this was coming, so far he hadn’t been tested physically yet. He was going to have to do some kind of chore or training ritual. Usually, that wouldn’t be so bad but his feet… they were practically shattering under his weight for just a few hours earlier.

  
It doesn’t matter, he’s just going to have to push through the pain. It would eventually have to be over, the simulation couldn’t go on forever, could it?

  
Cor puts the new clothes on the bed, and NH realizes that they’re not clothes, but more blankets by the looks of it. They’re thick and short, and probably wouldn’t do much to keep a person warm. Maybe the commander needed his blankets back. That would make sense. There’s something else too, it’s a roll of some kind of thin plastic.

  
“You need a shower, Whatever that goo was, the residue smells terrible and you've covered it in kid.”

  
Oh, a shower. NH felt much more confident in that request. He would probably only need to be standing for a few minutes. He could handle a few minutes, he would have to.

Cor leans his head to the side, he’s closer than NH remembers him being. “Did you hear me?”

  
NH nods quickly, feeling his face heat up. He’d forgotten to answer through all his thoughts, “I- Yes sir- Cor. Yes.”

  
“Good man come on then.” NH begins to adjust himself, but his feet still ache, and his hand had only gotten worse since the night. but before he can Cor reaches for him. NH flinches back, expecting to be hit for not getting up quick enough. He squeezes his eyes shut, but Cor simply lifts him, just like he had the day before when he’d gotten him into bed. NH is stiff in his grip, it’s so strange to be lifted up like this. He feels something fuzzy trying to claw its way up to the forefront of his mind but it doesn’t quite make it and he can’t remember what it is.

  
Cor must feel the way he stiffens because he stops walking, “Is something wrong?” he asks.

“N-no.” NH says so cor keeps going. To NH’s surprise, he heads towards the bathroom. Maybe there is some kind of washing station for MT’s in there that he hadn’t noticed before? Even if that were the case it would be strange to keep that in the same area as the humans would be.

  
NH feels an odd sense of dread pooling in his belly, he can feel cor’s body heat through his shirt, and remembers how big his hands are, one is under his knees easily holding them, and the other is behind his back, he can feel their calluses pressing into him and knows how strong cor must be. NH isn’t that small and the way cor holds him like he doesn't’ weigh more than a pillow. It makes him shiver, all he wants is to be let go.

  
Luckily he is a few moments later, Cor sits him down on the closed toilet. He hadn’t said anything about NH’s escape out of bed so it’s safe to assume he hadn’t caught onto it yet. But that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t later.

  
Cor turns towards the bathtub, turns and knob and hydration fluid comes pouring out, it’s loud at first, hitting the bottom with a steady pattering sound, but as it gets more filled the sound drowns out with it.

 

NH is confused.

  
Is Cor planning to take a bath before he takes his shower? Cor shuts it down once the water gets halfway to the top. He takes the roll of plastic and pulls off a long strip of it. “I’m going to need to see your hand.” NH shakily holds it out to him.

 

Cor doesn’t even look down at it, he lets out a little puff of air, “I mean your injured hand, I’m going to wrap it up so the cast doesn’t get wet.” NH doesn’t understand but he quickly obeys, Cor takes his wrist, and he starts wrapping around the weird thick stuff until his hand is even more constricted. “There we go. Okay so, you need to take off your clothes and I’ll help you get in.”

  
NH was living the last several days in a daze of confusion and pain and anxiety. Since waking up that first time it felt like there was a band around his chest slowly slowly stretching around his rib cage.

  
The band snaps.

  
Cor keeps talking, messing around with some things on the rim of the tub but NH can’t hear him anymore, all he hears is ringing as the memory finally surfaces. He was doing a good job at training, a commander wanted to reward him with extra shower privileges, except he didn’t leave. He said he was helping, he said it would feel good. ‘Take off your suit I’ll help you’.

  
***

The commander turns his head, his eyes widen. “Whoa! I’m just-” NH already knows what he’s going to do. Not again. Not again.

  
“N-no” He slurs, the peripherals of his vision churn in and out of focus. He’d had it with this simulation.Aall these mind games, He can’t take it anymore. He has to get away, he doesn’t know how much a simulation generates but maybe he can break through it. He forces himself up, fully intent on running and falls immediately. The commander catches him, just barely, and both fall to the ground. He pulls NH forwards, NH screams like he’d been stabbed.

  
It sounds mangled and terrible even to his own ears but he can’t take it. He shoves as hard as he can at the commander's body, trying to push him away but he’s so weak, if only he were stronger. He should be stronger.

  
“You’re going to hurt yourself!” The commander yells. ‘If you move too much you’ll hurt yourself’

  
“Let go of me!” NH screams, so forcefully that he feels like his lungs are going to burst. He struggles in the commander's grip, he punches at him, but nothing budges him.  
“Calm down!.”

  
NH felt trapped, the same way he did when he was put into a containment pod. “Let me out!” He screams at the ceiling, hoping someone anyone who was watching this nightmare all unfold. “End it Please! I don’t care what happens to me out there! I can’t do this anymore!”

  
The door opens. Monica appears, her hair wet, and her clothes messy.

  
“What are you talking about?!” the Commander sounds just as confused as he feels, there’s a sharp edge of anger to his voice. It’s so much worse when he’s mad.

  
Monica comes closer,“What’s happening?!” She gets down on her knees in front of them, NH is too busy trying to get out of Cor’s hold to really notice. They sound like they’re yelling from several rooms away. But NH is still squished against the commander's chest, he can feel his body heat.

  
And then Cor let’s him go, NH scrambles back the best he can, until he’s wedged in the corner between the bathtub and the wall. He puts his hands over his ears, his head in his knees, trying to make himself seem as small as possible in some wild hope that they’d forget he was there.

  
Monica’s voice is there, so softly, But he wants to disappear, meld into the walls and out of sight from everyone. He refuses to look up, rocking back and forth as his breathing refuses to even out, while also not getting worse. He wants out.

  
She keeps talking, He can’t understand her through the fuzz that’s wedged between his ears. Finally, he looks up, hoping to read her lips or something. She’s smiling, that same kind of smile, her eyebrows are angled up, her mouth pulled tightly.

  
“Can you hear me?” she asks.

  
He shakes his head yes, out of instinct more than anything.

  
“There’s a lot Cor and I haven’t explained to you about your situation yet. We wanted to make sure you were settled and alright before we did anything to upset you. Obviously, it wasn’t the right thing to do and I’m sorry.” she’s sorry… he feels bad for making her sorry. “If you would give me a chance to explain now, I’m positive things will be easier.”

  
He shakes his head, miserably. “I-I can’t t-take it.” the tears finally spill over again, NH’s eyes are sore from doing it so much, he wishes they would just stay back.

  
Monica shifts her position, so that she’s a bit lower. “What can’t you take sweetie? I need you to be specific.” Sweetie. The word wraps around him like a blanket. There’s something about that word that makes him feel safer. He distantly wonders if he’ll remember why. Like how he remembered the bathtub.

 

“This simulation-” he starts. “I-I don’t understand anything.”

She blinks at him, “Simulation?”

  
He swallows back a mouthful of spit. He feels like he’s going to be sick, but there’s nothing in him to throw up. He tries to be specific “I heard that I was going to be d-decommissioned, and sometimes they have simulations to test that. This is a simulation- i-it’s not real.”

“Not… real…” she looks horrified. NH feels bad about telling her. He still doesn’t like to see this commander look upset, even now. Even after everything. “Okay- Astrals.” she chews on her lower lip, looking down for a moment, then she offers him another smile. “Can I see your hand please?” He doesn’t know why but he wants to trust her. And he lets her have his hand.

  
She takes it so carefully and pulls it forwards, slowly placing it over her heart.

  
It takes a second but then he feels it beat underneath her skin. It’s beating fast, like his. “Do you feel that?” she asks. He nods because he does. “That’s my heart, it’s there because I’m real.” She moves his hand so that he can feel his own heartbeat. “Yours is beating because you're real.” he just feels it, rhythmically under his fingers, and the world becomes a little less fuzzy. “And,” she continues, “This room you’re in is real, look.” she knocks lightly on the floor, the sound is sharp and… real. “And if where you are is real and you and I are real, then the rest of it has to be real as well right?”

  
NH had never taken a moment to really feel his surroundings, the entire time he’d been in some kind of drug-induced stupor, but it had worn off and the heartbeat feels so real. He doesn’t remember simulations ever being so detailed.

  
He shakes his head again, “I-it can’t be.”

  
Monica rubs the back of his hand with her thumb, “Why not.” she all but whispers, he can’t remember ever being touched so gently, so reassuringly. He feels like he can trust her. He wants to trust her. But there’s a problem.

  
“Because I’m underground- the sky shouldn’t be so close. How- How could I have ever gotten outside.” he feels almost stupid as he says it, Monica’s eyes are watery, he feels a pang of guilt for making her look that way.

  
She explains how they found him.

  
He starts to feel a little more real.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A fully Monica POV chapter, Let me know what you think of other POV's,

It takes a while, Monica loses track of time on the bathroom floor with him, but eventually, she finishes explaining it all in a way she can only hope he understands. He looks at her with wide eyes and slowly pulls his hands away from his face. His hair is messy from sleep, sticking up in odd places, and hanging over his eyes. She hopes that he’ll let her cut it or at least pull it out of the way later.

He really is small, the sweater hangs loosely off him, sitting lopsided on his collarbone, where she can see the skin underneath. She wants to adjust it for him, keep him somewhat insulated because he looks like he’s absolutely freezing. trembling and sweating and pale as a sheet of paper, save for the flush on his face that appears when one cries. 

She lets him digest the information. She told him about cor’s scouting mission, about the facility and the way the prince had found him. it must be quite a lot to take in all at once, but it’s better than he knows now.

He hadn’t looked up once since she’d started talking. “I’m...” His voice sounds raw and painful, “we’re in Lucis?”

“Yes, that’s right. Your facility was just barely overlapping our border.”

He looks around the room with a new kind of awareness. Voice low and uncertain the next time he speaks, “I’m a prisoner?” 

Monica swallows around the lump in her throat, “No- You’re...” To be honest she wasn’t sure what he was. A prisoner isn't the right word for him but he was under their watch, and he would have to go some sort of vetting process, along with Selene’s test. He, unfortunately, didn’t have a say in any of that. “You’re, just- I don’t know. But you’re not a Prisoner. I’m not sure what you thought Cor was doing, but he was only going to help you.” 

The kid stiffens a bit at the word help and casts his gaze towards the floor. She’s never seen a person look more resigned. He closes his eyes tightly and runs his good hand through his hair in an attempt to get it out of his face.

Monica brushes a piece of hair behind her ear, It’s almost completely dry now. “I know it must be upsetting that you cannot wash on your own, given your feet and other injuries. But Cor is a very trustworthy person.” 

She doesn’t understand why he looks so dejected, he puts his chin on his knees and runs his finger absently along a crease in the tiled flooring.

He kept stealing silent glances at the door as if worried someone would come barging in at any moment- oh. She thought that he was so distraught due to the idea of being trapped in a simulation, but perhaps that wasn’t the only thing. He was also of the mindset that Cor was going to come back in to hurt him, ‘discipline’ him like his old commanders.

To her, Cor was anything but intimidating, but to a stranger, nonetheless someone as vulnerable as the kid, he was that and more. A tall man, with a rough voice made of all muscle and sharp eyebrows. 

She remembers yesterday, The kid looked so relieved when cor had left to take his phone call and even now he seemed much more comfortable when Cor wasn’t around. It was still nervous wreck levels, but not quite as heightened. 

Perhaps it would be best if Cor didn’t show up again, “Would you feel more comfortable if I stayed instead of Cor?” she offers.

The look on the kid's face says it all. 

***

Monica turns on the overhead light, and hands over a roll of tissues. His eyes and nose are brimmed pink from crying, and his face is wet with tears and snot. The freckles that cover most of him are much more visible now, and they are everywhere. Blonde hair is a real rarity in Lucis and it’s probably beautiful underneath the layers of grime. 

He truly needs a bath or two. It couldn’t be healthy to be layered in that stuff for long, otherwise, she wouldn’t be forcing him to do anything, he’s quite obviously not in the mood for it. She’s also going to have to get him to eat and take medicine, but once that’s done she’ll be sure to let him rest all day.

His feet still look awful, new shades of purples and yellows, and according to Selene, it wasn’t certain that a potion would do harm or good. 

Monica clears her throat softly, “I wish we could sit here longer, I need to get you cleaned and fed soon.” He blows his nose into the tissue and avoids eye contact with her like it’s his job. “It will help you recover more quickly.” He just picks at his sleeve, his lip trembles but he sheds no more tears. “Before we start all that… is there anything you’d like me to do or get you. Something that would make you feel better-?”

“Water.” he says without a moment of pause between their sentences, he surprises himself by speaking so abruptly, “I mean if t-thats…”

“Alright.” she smiles weakly, He watches her closely under lidded eyes as she pulls herself up by the counter, and brushes her pants off. “Just one moment,” She forces herself to sound as casual as possible, like counseling a half-mt in her apartment bathroom was an everyday thing. “I’ll get a cup from the kitchen and be right back.” 

“O-okay.”

***

unsurprisingly Cor is sitting on the floor outside, his eyebrows are drawn in closely in concern, she makes sure to shut the door behind her so that the kid doesn’t see him lingering, then helps him to his feet, he followers her wordlessly to the kitchen, and doesn’t speak until they’re clearly out of earshot. 

“Monica- I don’t know what to say.” The look on his face pretty much says it all, he’s clearly devastated. The night before they were planning to take shifts but even after waking her up to take hers, he hadn’t slept well. The bags under his eyes tell her that much.

She pulls a glass from one of the cupboards and begins to fill it up with the sink. She wasn’t mad at him, but it was very upsetting to walk into a scene where he was yelling and the kid was practically begging to be let go.

Cor rings his hands, “One moment I was filling up the bathtub, and the next, he was screaming.” 

She lets out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding in. “Did you say anything strange to him? Something confusing or something he’d be able to misconstrue as a threat?”

Cor runs a hand over the stubble on his chin anxiously, “No- I just wrapped his hand in the plastic, to keep it from getting wet and then asked him to get in.” 

 

Monica’s rubs at the spot between her eyes, there’s a slight headache forming there, “I don’t know how to phrase this properly but I think he’s afraid of you.”

Cor’s expression twist’s in confusion, “afraid of… me?”

“Yes, he was acting like he expected you to hurt him. And we know from what he told me that ‘disciplining’” The word tastes sour on her tongue, “Was a common occurrence, physical punishment for acting out.”

 

Cor sits down on one of the barstools, “But he didn’t do anything,” Cor insists, “he did exactly as I asked, and stayed exactly where I put him.” 

Monica believes it. “Given what those monsters did, I wouldn’t be surprised if they were unreasonable. For all, we know he could have just been so scared of making you mad that he panicked.” Cor’s eyebrows turn down in anger as he thinks about how likely that was, “but I think it may be best for you to just stay away from him until things are more clearly sorted out, or I can convince him that you’re not going to hurt him.

Cor purses his lips grimly, “You’re probably right.”

She can see the hurt in his eyes, it must sting to go through the processes of getting leadership and the final word in what happened to the kid. Selene had fought them hard on the matter, even going as far as to take it to Clarus, and the king himself. She’d managed to get forced appointments, that would take place at the capitol, but luckily the kid would stay there Cor decided. For now.

Cor rubs a hand down his face. “This is a mess. What are we going to do when you leave tomorrow?”

It was something she’d considered as well. As much as she would prefer to skip the conference, she couldn’t. It was absolutely mandatory. “I think Gladio and Ignis could be good help. You can all stay here when I’m away, I don’t think it’s a good idea for him to move locations yet. Clarus may have some suggestions as well.”

“I’ll call them right now-” 

“Actually Marshall, I think it would be best if you went to them in person.”

Cor seems uneasy about the idea. “Monica, I have no doubt in your abilities but do you think It’s a good idea to be here alone with him? If you weren’t here earlier I don’t know what would have happened. This is not a one-person job.”

Monica knows, but she also knows how much better the kid will feel with Cor out of the apartment. “I think it’s our best option. And for today, It’s probably best if you’re not here. For the kid's sake.” Cor purses his lips. Monica feels bad for saying it so outright but it needed to be conveyed. “Besides, you can’t exactly work from home.”

“You can’t either.”

“Yes,” Monica continues, “But I had the day off anyway to prepare for the conference.” 

Cor shifts on his feet, “I could put my work off-” 

“There’s no need for that, and besides you’ll have the opportunity to speak to Clarus in person, he’s always better in person. And… you can tell Selene what we’ve learned. Maybe she’ll be able to figure something out, or grow a shred of empathy.”

Cor makes a sound in the back of his throat, He knows that she’s right. Clarus was always much more hospitable in person, having the speaker in front of him seemed to help him communicate better. 

“We’ll be fine,” Monica assures.

Cor thinks it for a moment, rubbing his forehead, his eyes never leaving hers. He had a way of looking through her, that somehow made Monica only feel more sure of her words. He reaches up and puts his hand on her shoulder before giving it a firm squeeze. “Please make sure he eats.”

She puts her hand over his “of course.”

He gives her a weak grin, before turning and heading towards the door. He grabs his coat off the rack and begins to slip it on. “If something happens, if you or him need any help, do not hesitate to call me or someone else. Even if that means Selene.”

She knows how serious he is by mentioning her, and Monica promises she will. 

***

Monica returns to the bathroom and the kid is exactly where she left him. It’s almost as if someone had hit a pause button, and frozen the heartbreaking scene in place. he jumps at the sound of the knob, eyes frantically darting up. Thankfully, relaxes when he realizes it’s just her. When she gets back down on her knees she makes sure to sit more comfortably, so her legs wouldn’t fall asleep no matter how long he needs to stay there. 

“Here you are.” She says, holding the water out to him. The cup shakes as he takes it. For a few moments he doesn’t do anything but stare, He’s waiting for her to tell him he can drink it, “Go ahead.” 

He drinks it quickly and all at once, spilling some down his chin as he gulps desperately. She wishes that she brought him a bigger cup, He had been sleeping far too much to have enough water and must be dehydrated by this point. He holds it firmly with both hands when he’s finished, as if afraid he’ll drop it. 

“Would you like me to get more?” 

He shakes his head no, but she’s pretty sure he just doesn’t want to admit he’s still thirsty. For now, she doesn’t push it. 

“Is there anything else you’d like?” she asks.

His gaze moves to her hand, and then back. He opens his mouth to say something but then closes it again. 

“Don’t be shy, I want to do what I can,” she assures him.

He does tell her what it is then, “Earlier, when you were holding my hand-” he looks away, as if embarrassed, “I know it’s stupid but- I-it made me feel- when you were d-doing that.” His voice tapers off and he’s closed in on himself as if he’s absolutely certain that she’s going to slap him. “I-I’m sorry.” He says for no reason at all.

Her throat is hot, she wants to cry for him, instead she holds her hand out to him, he stares at it then reaches forwards slowly, afraid that she’ll snatch it back any moment, she doesn’t. 

So the kid takes it and holds on so tightly it almost hurts and she doesn’t mind. He rubs his thumb over her hand, similar to how she had been doing that to his. He chews his lip, watching his own thumb with a strange kind of wonder, that reminds Monica of a small child. She can’t believe how much she feels for him, her heart aches for him as she watches. 

Suddenly, she wonders when the last time someone hugs him, if ever. Was he born in a facility, raised by those scientists from infancy, abused the entire time? It’s such a horrible thought that she physically shudders. 

“S-Sorry.” he says quickly, and tries to pull his hand away, but she places her other one on top of his own. 

“Don’t worry! You’re fine, if this makes you feel better you can do it as long as you like.” The kid is obviously relieved by this, but he doesn’t continue. “I just wanted to ask if you’d like a hug instead?”

His eyebrows pinch in confusion, “Hug?” It sounds strange like he hadn’t said the word in a long long time and wasn’t quite sure how to say it. Now that he’s talking more she can hear that he does, in fact, have a slight accent. 

She offers a smile, “Yes, It’s okay if you don’t, I just thought it may be more comforting than this”

He looks down at the floor for a second before inching forwards, Monica opens her arms up and lets him come to her. He leans forwards and collapses into her embrace, awkwardly bringing his arms to wrap around her back. All his movements are slow and unsure, so she pulls him in closer, so he’s practically in her lap. 

She cups one hand over his head and guides it to her shoulder. He’s painfully tense in her hold but eventually starts to relax, as he does he starts to shakes against her. For a moment she thinks that he’s starting to panic again. 

“Thank you,” he whispers before she can pull away, it’s so hushed that she barely catches his hold is so much firmer than it has any sense to be with his bony arms. She closes her eyes and gently rocks him where they sit, whispering soothing words to him.

He doesn’t make any sounds other than the occasional sniff, and she knows he’s crying because her shoulder slowly becomes wet with his tears. 

Cor was right, he really does smell awful from the residue, like chemicals and industrial smoke, but she couldn’t care less. 

She hugs him as tightly as she can while being sure she’s not hurting him. 

***  
Originally Monica had planned to let Cor help the kid bathe for modesty and comfort sake. There was no way he’d be able to get in and out of the bathtub, so someone would have to help him. It was awkward to undress in front of strangers, but maybe it would be less mortifying to do it in front of another man. 

She should have asked him his preferences instead. Up until this point, she wasn’t looking at him like a person capable of making his own decisions, or someone that even had the capacity too. That was a horrible mistake on her part.

Monica a bit relieved to find out how pliable he is after their hug. It makes picking him up and depositing him into the bathtub a much easier task than it could have been. He looks much smaller in the tub, if that was even possible, and the white of the linoleum really washes his skin out.

“We don’t want that shirt to get wet and cling to you, so would you mind taking that off now?” She offers, careful to keep her tone level, “I can leave while you do if that's what you prefer?”

He nervously shifts where he is, meekly shaking his head no. 

She’s a bit relieved at his answer, “Okay, I’ll stay right here.”

He doesn’t exactly smile at her response, but he does look a bit more relaxed, and that’s something.

Monica had been afraid to leave him alone now, he doesn’t seem fully there anymore, like everything had caught up to him at once and left him numb. She remembers feeling the same way after a long cry, but couldn’t recall the last time that had actually happened, years maybe. He leans his head against the side of the tub, pressing his forehead into the cool linoleum, he must have a killer headache after all that. 

Monica takes a towel from the counter and pours water over it in the sink. “Here, if your head hurts this should help.” she says gently, handing it to him. He looks at it uneasily, before obeying and holding it against his forehead.

His unease stays, “How did you know….”

“Hm?”

“How d-did you k-know i had a headache, Can you tell what I’m thinking too?”

Everytime Monica is sure she won’t be surprised by anything he says anymore, he proves her wrong. “I can’t read your mind, I could just tell because crying does that to me too. I guessed.” 

“Oh”, he says, seemingly more comforted by this answer. It’s either that or he doesn’t have the strength to question her further. 

“Did your… commanders tell you that they could read your mind?” 

He nods slowly, and she feels her blood boil yet again. He’s already overwhelmed by new information, so she’ll save it for later, but Astrals does she want to scream.

She helps him ease out of the sweater, which is something Selene had dug out from the back room, it’s a scratchy material and smells vaguely of medical supplies. Monica throws it to the side haphazardly, he watches it go with wide sad eyes.

“We’ll find you something better,” Monica assures, but he doesn’t seem very convinced. 

She needs to call Cor and ask him to bring some clothes back or something, and some other essentials, like a toothbrush. After a bit of contemplation, she decides to just leave his Chocobo boxers on. She didn’t exactly have a spare pair of boxers laying around but she could just wash them and give them back. In the meantime, he’d be fine in some of her clothes. 

She had a nice pair of sweatpants and a shirt laying around that would at least sort of fit him. He was only slightly shorter than her, but he was missing quite a bit of obviously needed weight, she’d make it work with bobby pins or hair ties if she had to.

Monica turns on the water, slowly. He tenses up at it, pushing himself a bit further into the back of the tub, as if to avoid it. He must really not like baths. Monica waits until it’s warm and then plugs the bottom, getting up to grab the soaps from the cupboard above the sink. 

As she’s searching he lets out a sharp gasp, and Monica turns quickly, expecting him to be midway through another panic attack or in pain. But he doesn’t seem to be either. Instead, he’s just watching in fascination as the water pools around his body, he moves his good hand around in circles, playing with the water

After a moment he notices her, and she realizes that she’d just been staring. 

Monica smiles to assure him, “Is something wrong?” she asks. 

He shakes his head, “N-no it’s just… It’s warm.” 

“It’s supposed to be.” had he never taken a warm bath before? 

“Oh.” he says with completely wonderment, leaning back against the tub. He lets out a shaky sigh and closes his eyes, looking more relaxed than Monica had ever seen him. 

As she does the calm look slips away and he grips the side of the tub tightly. She wishes that she’d put it off a bit more, so the kid could stay relaxed for more than a few moments. She begins to pour it in, and it bubbles under the faucet, mixing with the water and making the bathroom smell like coconut. 

Once again, he watches with complete fascination as the bubbles grow higher, Monica turns off the water when it’s about halfway to the top, and he’s so busy watching the bubbles he doesn’t seem to notice. He timidly puts his arm around them, swirling it around and then pulling it back out, now covered in suds that begin to melt away. It’s really cute, Monica stifles a little giggle at the bewildered expression. She can almost imagine that he’s just a normal person, who really likes bubbles, but then he speaks. 

“Why doesn’t it burn?” he asks, with so much genuine curiosity that it throws her off for a second.

“The soap you mean?” 

He looks down at the bubbles and then back at her, checking to see if it’s right. “Yes, the soap.” 

Monica’s chest aches, She gets down on her knees next to the tub, to wash his hair answering the question as she does, “Because It’s not supposed to.” 

He picks some up and squishes it in his hand. “Oh.”

***

Monica reaches forwards with her shampoo covered hands and the kid flinches away, as if on instinct. “Hey, Sorry I should have warned you,” she tells him as he eyes her nervously. “I’m just going to use this to wash your hair, it’s just like the soap in the tub.” He’s still hesitant so she adds, “it even makes bubbles.” and after that, his apprehension fades a little. 

He turns his head back wordlessly, squeezing his eyes closed in anticipation for the shampoo.

The goo had hardened in the kid's hair so when Monica first puts her hands through it his hair is almost brittle to the touch. She takes her time, carefully pulling chunks apart so that it will be easier to get the shampoo through it. Every now and again her fingers get stuck and she has to finagle them free, he tenses up harshly every time, and she feels a deep pang of guilt.

After the first few moments, he opens his eyes, straining to look up at her while keeping his head still. When he can’t he just closes them again, his breathing sounds very deliberate, as if he’s trying to keep it steady.

“Tell me if this hurts alright sweetie?” she tells him, “I’m just trying to get your hair clean, it’s a bit difficult but I promise I’m not trying to pull.” He doesn’t do anything but make a noise in the back of his throat that sounds like an okay.

Finally, she gets enough out of it and can wash his hair normally. She rinses the remaining shampoo out in exchange for a fresh layer and begins to massage it through his hair. The kid actually whimpers at the sensation and for a second Monica thinks that she’s hurting him but when she pulls her hands away for a second, she can see that he’s smiling. He’s actually smiling. It’s not very big but it’s there. 

She takes a second to look over him now that the grime is gone she can see that there are even more freckles on his face than she’d thought, his eyes are closed, and she notices that even his eyelashes are the golden blonde color of his hair. She can’t see any of his scars underneath the layer of suds, or the metal parts. 

He just looks like a normal person relaxing on a Sunday morning and Monica wants to cry again, she can’t imagine what kind of heartless people would be able to hurt someone like him in such a horrible way. She didn’t know how old he was, but he looked around the age of Noctis, probably younger.

A tear slips out of her eye and quickly wipes it away on her shoulder. She clears her throat and focuses on finishing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always please lmk what you think! Comments are a huge source of motivation to me and I appreciate every one so much! (this goes for kudos and honestly just reads lol) SO THANKS for reading ilysm  
> Momica is real as hell


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEEYY sorry I've been gone slightly less vague reasoning below

Somehow, he looks better and worse after he’s clean. 

Better because all the freckles that were hidden under the thick layer of grime on his skin were now completely visible, contrasting starkly to his pale skin and decorating his face and body in color. His hair falls neatly, ending just above his shoulders, no longer in sticky uneven clumps. Its golden color is pronounced and beautiful, even in the harsh bathroom light. He doesn’t carry that horrifying smell anymore, the one that was so clearly chemical it burned her nose. 

He looks worse because of his back. Monica had drained the tub, and gotten him settled on the lid of the toilet as she quickly fetched towels to cover his trembling form. She did not notice before, because of the grime and how he had been leaning against the tub. His entire back was covered with horizontal and vertical and diagonal scars that intersected and meshed together and went deep into his freckled skin, some were old, others seemed more recent.

She feels so physically sick from the sight of them, from what they imply, that she has to grip the wall and force herself to swallow back anger and nausea. 

after a few seconds, the kid stiffens visibly and she quickly sobers, wrapping the towel around his shoulders. 

“Here, you can use these to dry off,” she says, with a weak smile. His eyes stay trained on the ground, he coughs wetly into his fists. the coughs had been happening off and on and always sounded painful. Luckily none were as bad as the first day, She wondered if Selene could give them something to help them.

The bath had revealed bruises as well, the ones on his arms are much worse than she’d thought, green yellow and dark purple splotches trail up the entirety of both forearms, his feet look just as bad and there was a new one forming over his side. About a day old, she couldn’t figure out when he must have gotten it, and decides to ask him later.

She hadn’t even noticed one until now. It was more faded than the rest, just a small patch of yellow in the corner of his eye that curved underneath, someone had clearly punched him. Monica clenches and then unclenches her fist to keep herself composed.

“I’m going to grab you something to wear alright? Just sit tight for a moment.” He just nods.

***

NH doesn’t know what’s happening, but that’s starting to become a reoccurring theme in this strange place. 

He knows that is a bath, which is something just for humans. He knows that he had just taken one, which was something Mt’s weren’t allowed to do. NH knows that he likes Monica, and wants to trust her and that she put him in there. Monica was a human, Monica was his new commander- but didn't want to be called a commander. And she was kind and gentle. Commanders weren't gentle, neither were humans.

Everything contradicts and it makes his head spin and feels like it’s not attached to the rest of him like he’s floating above everything and just looking down as a bystander. He feels sick, stupid, useless. 

NH wishes that he could have stayed in the bathtub forever, having his head scrubbed soothingly. He puts his own hands through his hair but it just doesn't feel the same, it doesn't feel like anything.

The shirt he’d been wearing earlier had been thrown aside, and Monica had said she was going to get him something better. He can only glean that she means something more appropriate for an MT. 

He can still see the shirt, hanging out of the trash can that it had been discarded in. He considers taking it, and hiding it somehow for later but ultimately decides she'd realize it was missing.

Monica had placed his new suit on the counter where he could reach it ‘without having to get up’ she’d said. He needed to take off what he was wearing now, the short pants with the small yellow animals on them and put this suit on instead. After giving him the directions she’d left, ‘call me when you’re finished’.

Instead of complying, NH hadn’t moved, and it had been a long long time since then.

Eventually, he would have to be punished for being insubordinate, that was just common sense. Something so obvious that even someone as stupid as him knew. NH sniffed. His head was finally starting to feel clear and it was a nice change to be able to think straight, even if he still couldn’t understand anything. 

The clearness of his mind also meant that there was nothing to blame his own incompetence on, and that was scary. 

Monica and Cor said that some people had found him in his base, and taken him. He didn’t know what they wanted from him yet, but if they were looking for a capable unit… he wasn’t sure what they were going to do. He was and always had been the worse unit at his base. So close to decommissioning constantly, a week wouldn’t go by without a commander threatening him with it. All of the humans hated him for being so weak, but they weren’t the only ones.

MT units weren’t allowed to fraternize but he could tell by their stares alone how much they loathed him, and for good reason. He’d been the cause of some of their punishments, for being too slow or too clumsy or too stupid.

Both Monica and Cor had witnessed how broken of a unit he was first hand. The thought of what Cor would do to him when he came back formed a rock in his stomach, He’d actually yelled and cried and disobeyed him so ferociously that there was no way he could apologize enough. 

And then he’d actually Forced Monica to hold him, he’d cried all over her, and left a wet spot on the fabric of her shirt. He flinched away from her and he asked so many ridiculous questions that he knew he should know the answer to.

He was shocked that they hadn’t just sent him back already or decommissioned him or given him to the woman in the white room he woke up in. He just couldn’t figure out why, why they’d waste so much time on him and why they’d help him because he knows now that this isn't a simulation-

Suddenly there are a few short raps on the door, and NH jolts so hard that he knocks his feet across the tiles and has to bite his lip to keep from whimpering out loud. It’ sparks a small coughing fit, which he stifles into his palm and when they fade he hears Monica calling from beyond the door

“Sweetie?” that name again. “Do the clothes fit? Are you having trouble?”

He can't think of anything to say, She asked him if they’d fit but he didn't know that yet because he hadn’t even put them on. He fumbles, opening his mouth and then closing it again when his words simply do not work. after a few seconds of tense silence, Monica speaks again.

“Please say something- so I know you’re alright.”

He swallows, feeling something hard and painful break apart in his throat, “I-I’m fine.”

There’s an audible sigh from behind the door, “Okay, take your time, I’ll be waiting right here until you’re ready.”

“Yes.”

NH half expects her to kick the door open, and laugh at him for buying that, but instead, he hears her move away from the door, a little to the side and then stays there. 

And she doesn't make any more noise, she doesn’t huff with impatience or yell at him. 

NH shakily reaches for the bundle of the suit off the sink and freezes when his hand comes into view. There’s a small splatter of blood in his palm. 

He’s so lucky he caught it before staining the suit.

His eyes move around the room for somewhere to clean it off. He could always swallow it but just the thought of having to do that made him feel nauseous.

His eyes land on the trash can and the shirt that he’d been wearing earlier. Monica was throwing it away, so she might not look at it thoroughly. NH reaches over and uses the inside to clean the blood from his hand, and then from his mouth and then puts it back carefully, mimicking the position it was in before. 

He takes a shaky breath and picks up the suit. Right away a piece of it falls out of his grip and hits the floor, for a horrifying second he thinks that he’d somehow broken it- his breathing stops and he has to force himself to pick up the other half. He’s left holding- two separate articles of clothing that obviously never fit together... they’re soft. 

Even softer than the shirt he’d been wearing earlier, just like Monica had said They’d be. Something warm swells up in his chest, It didn’t feel possible that he’d be given something this nice to wear.

NH unfolds the shirt, it’s a beautiful shade of dark blue, with a little emblem sewn into the right side. He doesn’t recognize it but it’s red and has a rounded shape, there’s a little brown stem sticking out of the top. The back is blank. NH carefully pulls it over his head, which takes some time because he’s still shaking and only has one he can use.

It’s too big on his weak frame but it’s soft and warm, and he feels better just having it over him, the coldness of the room begins to snuff out. He unfolds the pants next. 

They’re a more usual color, a simple light gray. It takes longer to slip them on than the shirt because he has to pull them over his feet, which look disgusting covered in all those beaten patterns. He can’t really remember how he’d gotten them. He wonders if Monica is just as disgusted by them as he is, if not more. He forces himself to keep his breathing steady and eventually has the pants on.

That’s when he realizes that he never took the short pants off. They’re still damp from the bath water, and he can see splotches of water coming through the gray ones. NH bites his lip, annoyed at himself for missing one of the two directions. He swallows, and his throat feels hot. He will not cry again, he’d already done that far too much and was absolutely certain Monica thought he was nothing more than a pathetic mess.

Taking them off takes twice as long but eventually, he’s managed to get the short pants off and pull the long pants back on. They’re still wet, and that makes his mistake strikingly obvious.

He’s so stupid.

There’s nothing left to do but call for Monica. NH clutches the fabric of his new pants in his fists, so tightly that the knuckles of his hand go white. 

He likes Monica. She was by far the best overseer he’d ever had but she was also just that, an overseer. She very obviously wanted or need something out of him. What it was wasn’t clear yet but he knew that no matter how well she treated him, her kindness had a line, and there was no telling when or how he’d finally cross it. 

***  
Cor leans against the front desk of the medical wing, waiting for Doctor Amalie to finish printing out the documents he needed. It's taking a long time, Longer than it probably should, and he just doesn't have the patience today.

He rubs his eyes, exhausted. He’d spent the night on Monica’s couch, which was a decent size, but he was bigger, so his legs had become cramped overnight and that feeling lingered with him the rest of the day. She’d offered to give him the bed, but of course, he wouldn’t take it. Something about Kicking someone like Monica out of her bed seemed so disturbed to him. She was a very kind woman and had even looked slightly dejected when he’d refused, but still.

Although his muscles ached, it was nothing compared to the other types of exhaustion he felt. The morning had simply and irrefutably drained him.

Cor had fought wars, and seen many battles but never in all his years, not even an opponent had someone looked at him the way the kid did. His blue eyes had been wide with an animalistic kind of terror, and the sound he’d made when Cor had simply kept him from falling…

Cor shivered, He knew he’d be hearing that sound in nightmares for years to come. And now that he was away Monica was left to deal with the kid herself. He knew she would be doing much better than he ever could, and hadn’t received a single call from her, which was a good sign, but he couldn’t shake the awful feeling from this morning. The feeling that he had been so utterly in the wrong without even knowing. It stung.

Obviously, he didn’t know what was best for the kid but he knew that he wanted him to be safe. It was obvious how much he’d suffered, Cor rarely saw full-grown men with as many scars as him, and the kid was… he was a kid. No older than the prince. 

Just being able to make that comparison between the two absolutely unnerved him and made the situation that much more real, and that much more horrible.

“Ah here you are Marshall,” Amalie says suddenly, jarring him from his thoughts. She’s a tall thin woman, with graceful and quiet steps, even in heels. He knows she didn’t sneak up on him, but somehow it always feels like it’s intentional. 

“You’re quite the covert,” he says, taking the outstretched folders from her, two of them.

“Sorry.” she apologizes sheepishly. “Will that be all?” 

“Yes, thank you, doctor.”

“Don’t mention it” she disappears again behind the counter and Cor heads for his office.

***

Cor turns the corner and find Ignis and Gladio seated in the chairs outside.

Apparently calling them down wasn’t going to be necessary.

Gladio was leaning back, his arms folded across his chest and Ignis was sitting with stiff posture, both hands folded in his lap. He’s sure Noctis would be with them as well if he didn’t have morning study. 

As he approached the two of them glanced in his direction, and then stood up in unison, Ignis opened his mouth to say something but Gladio was quicker, and far less patient. “Where is he?” He asked, his face was unreadable but his voice betrayed him, ripe with frustration. 

Ignis looked like he was going to say something, apologies on his partner's behalf, maybe. But instead, he simply turns his head to Cor, affirming that he too wanted to know the answer. Cor sighs, looking around, the hallways are empty, but that never meant anyone couldn't hear. 

“In my office,” he says gruffly, under his breath.

The two younger men comply, following him, Ignis closes the door quietly following Gladio to take the chairs in front of his desk. Cor opts to stand, his legs had been cramped enough for the day. 

After a few moments, where Cor is trying to piece together where to start, just how much to tell them, Ignis breaks the silence.

“Marshal, With all due respect, I think we have a right to know what’s been done to him.” His sharp inflection on the word done almost makes Cor wince. “...We are the ones who located him after all.” 

Gladio nods, “We already went to Selene to ask, but she said she couldn’t divulge information because it’s all in your hands. And she did not sound happy about it.”

It really shouldn’t, but Cor will admit that it gives him satisfaction that Selene wasn’t getting her way on this one.

“I actually came here to tell you..” Cor stated. 

“You did?” Ignis says, almost carefully, as if he thinks Cor is joking. 

“Yes,” Cor isn’t big on jokes.

Both men sit up a little taller, looks of surprise crossing their faces.

“You see,” he begins, “This situation is… delicate to say the least. It’s been agreed that no more people than what’s necessary will know. That leaves the three of us Monica, Selene, Doctor Francis, Doctor Amalie, Clarus and King Regis.” 

“That’s a rather tight-knit group.” Ignis comments.

“Yes, It is.” Cor folds his arms, “And it’s important we keep it this way. Do you understand.”

Gladio huffs, “Yeah, got it, no talking to anyone about this, our lips are sealed Marshall, can you please tell us now?”

So Cor does. 

“The boy that you found at the base is suspected to be a victim of human experimentation. “ The explanation feels bitter on his tongue, “Selene wanted to keep him here but for safety reasons, it was agreed that we would move him away from the castle. He’s currently with Monica at her apartment.”

Ignis blinks, “Human experimentation? Of what nature?” 

Cor purses his lips. “We believe that he was in the process of becoming an MT unit.”

“I-” Gladio sputters, “what do you mean 'process', those are just AI programs, aren’t they, y’know robots?” 

Cor nods grimly, “Yes, from what we’ve seen of them, they are entirely comprised of robotic parts and systems. The kid- I mean the- He has several ports attached to him, which you have all probably seen. These are identical to what we find on MT units. Only these are melded, and forcefully buried into his skin and-” It feels so wrong talking so matter of factly about this. “I’m getting off topic. The point is we need your help taking care of him, he’s in bad shape, both physically as well as mentally.”

Gladio’s face had completely fallen by that point, he was beginning to look angrier than anything, and Cor knows the feeling. “How so.”

Cor swallows around the lump in his throat, “Physically, both of his feet are terribly bruised. He can’t get around on his own because the pain is too great and I suspect he has some broken toes as well. Doctor Amalie told me over the phone that the pain and swelling will go down in a few days and then he should be able to walk fine again. If not we’ll need to take him back for examination. There are also bruises on his forearms which I’m sure you noticed, along with many strange scars. 

Ignus nods stiffly, “I’m sure more will appear once the residue is washed away.”.

“Monica is currently doing just that,” Cor informs him, “You’re most likely right. As for his mental health.

“He’s also prone to coughing fits, and actually coughed up some blood the first time he awoke at Monica’s.” 

“That’s a really bad sign.” Gladio states.

Cor shakes his head, “Selene said it was just because of throat irritation, And it shouldn’t be a problem, as long as it doesn’t keep happening. It only happened the one time so that’s something we don’t need to worry about for now.”

Gladio sighs, “Good, that’s good.”

Ignis clears his throat, “And the Mental side of his health? I’d like to be as thorough as possible so we can properly deal with the situation.” 

Cor takes the folders out from under his arms and hands one to each of them. In it are the medical recordings that Selene had made during her brief but thorough examination, as well as a written account by him of behaviors and events. The details were kept slightly watered down, But only slightly.

“I wasn’t sure how to explain it, So I made sure to take the time and keep a record of what happened so you could just read it instead.”

They nod and then begin to flip through the pages. Cor watches them for a moment before deciding to make himself busy by cleaning up his desk, which had been left rather hastily the day before.

***

Ignus finishes first, after the first few pages his palm had come up to cover the side of his mouth.” He closes his eyes, “I knew it had to be bad but- that’s much worse than I was anticipating.

Gladio finishes shortly afterward, “Astrals.” is all he says.

Cor lets the room hang tensely for a few moments, “He hates me.” He admits solemnly, ”I’m not sure why but Monica speculates I may look like, or remind him of one of his former ‘commanders’. He’s also fearful of her, but it’s nowhere near as bad. And Monica is a very smart and strong woman. It’s amazing how good she is at getting him to calm down, all things considered.”

Gladio runs a hand through his hair. “So, You want us to keep him company, and take care of his needs while she’s away or until you can gain more trust?”

Cor nods.

“What about Noctis,” Ignis asks.

“I have someone else to watch over him during the day, don’t worry.”

Ignis and Gladio exchange a brief look, and then they’re decided.

***

Monica decides that Moving into the living room might be the best move for the kid. She makes sure to ask him and explain her reasoning and he agrees without any complaints. 

She’s not sure if that’s a good or bad thing at this point. 

He doesn’t resist her picking him up, and she finds that even though he tenses in her hold, he shortly after melts into it, almost like he can’t help himself despite how clearly frightened and nervous he is. It makes her heart stick in her throat. She has no idea how long he’d actually been in the facility but she prays it wasn’t his whole life, or at least not his whole childhood. People, especially kids needed to be held and hugged and cared for, it was a standard part of growing up. He feels a little warm in her hold, but Monica has always had cold hands so she thinks nothing of it.

When she sets him down on the couch he leans into her arms until she’s out of reach. 

She props him up with pillows and laying a thin blanket over him, careful not to disturb his feet. He’s very thin, and pale and shivers almost constantly, even though the heat in her home is turned up higher than usual to account for it.

“I’m going to get you water and something to eat alright? Then you need to take some medicine, it will help with the pain.”

She can see how much effort he’s putting into keeping his face neutral. “Okay.”

***

 

Monica decides on two pieces of dry toast, a small bowl of apple slices, and a big cup of water, she makes herself the same thing, but with jelly and coffee instead, and then brings the plates out. She puts one on the coffee table in front of him and then sits back in her arm chair close to the couch with her own.

“Is it alright that I sit here with you?” She asks. She thinks it will be good for him to start having somewhat normal interactions as soon as possible, breakfast was a good as any place to start. And besides, he seems to have warmed up to her since this morning, even if it was just a little.

His neutral face breaks into one of bewilderment, and then he catches himself and nods a little too jerkingly. 

She smiles softly at him, “You can go ahead and eat now too.” 

The expression returns, he looks around nervously as if he’d missed something, eyes going everywhere but the plate she’d set in front of him. Monica frowns.

“That’s yours,” she says and gestures towards it. It’s only then that he seems to really grasp what she means. He watches her, out of the corner of his eye as he reaches for it and she makes a point to not look back, eating her toast instead. 

He takes a small drink of water, and when she doesn’t say anything he drinks a few quick gulps before putting it down. 

He sits back and doesn’t touch the food.

She wishes she could just let him do what he felt comfortable with but he was so thin, and it was imperative that he eats or the medicine would make him sick. She waits until she’s absolutely sure he’s not just taking some time before talking to him.

“Hey so.” He flinches at the words as if he were anticipating them. “I’m sorry but you really do need to eat. You won’t get better if you have no strength and you have to before taking medicine.”

He visibly swallows, “I d-don’t understand.” 

Monica puts her plate down, she’d been pretending to be busy with it to keep tension away from him but at this point, she’d eaten everything. “Can you explain to me what you don’t understand?”

He looks down then, his face flushing. “T-there are no ration bars,” he says nervously like he isn’t sure himself.

Monica purses her lips, “Were you only allowed to eat ration bars at your base?” she asks, clarifying for her own sanity.

“Yes.” He confirms. She feels her chest tighten.

“What was, what did these rations look like?”

The kid fumbles for words for a moment. “Like bars? T-they were I- I’m sorry- I don’t know how to-”

“It’s okay.” Monica cuts him off, “Don’t worry about that, it’s no problem.” He doesn’t meet her eyes, but she can see that he’s shaking. He was probably so unused to talking on his own accord. It seemed to take a lot out of him each time. She let out a small puff of air. “Whatever you were being fed at that base, we don’t have here,” she tells him softly.

She doesn’t expect to receive such a pained expression back. “Oh,” he whispers.

Monica doesn’t understand the reaction at all but she goes on, “Whatever you were going through, it’s over now. Instead, you’ll be eating other kinds of food."

"I will?" he asks unsurely. Monica nods.

"Of course, you didn't think we'd starve you did you?"

He looks at her nervously.

Oh.

She waves the comment away, “Those two things are apples and toast, they’re common breakfast food items, a little bland if you ask me but good. Why don’t you try to eat one?”

He glances up at her, eyebrows pinched closely together. “I- okay.” He says, so softly that she barely catches it.

She watches as he painstakingly brings an apple slice to his mouth and the bites into it. His eyes grow wide at the flavor and he holds the piece in his mouth for several seconds, staring at the other half of the slice before beginning to chew. 

Monica waits until he swallows it, “Does it taste good?” she asks. 

He answers by shoving the other half in his mouth. Monica can't help but sigh with relief.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't updated in a month and a half because I was dealing with some not so chill things, luckily those are all sorted and I'm glad to be back into writing. Thanks for reading!!! Comments are a huge motivator for me and I appreciate them so much <3


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m okay.” he hears himself saying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! It's been a few months since I last updated ;;;; I had a lot of things happen in my personal life as well as other personal projects that were and still are eating up a lot of my time (as well as some burnout lol) But yeah I'm hoping to start updating again hopefully biweekly or at least bi monthly haha.
> 
> This chapter is short! But the rest of the story wont' be like this thanks for being patient all of your comments really motivated me to get back into this <3.

NH couldn’t remember eating anything other than ration bars. They were these crusty flaky things that had no taste to them at all but that didn’t matter. They were purely there to sustain the MT units, to keep their bodies strong and working.

Whatever Monica had given him was nothing like that. He’d seen commanders eat before, on duty or passing by a station and catching a glance of them inside. The things they ate were always so different looking, and took so many different shapes.

He knows he shouldn’t be allowed to eat human food, but he was so hungry and it tasted amazing, and strangely comforting as if he’d had it before, even though that was impossible. NH was waiting for her to stop him, so when she suddenly put her hand on his shoulder he didn’t jump. He simply went still, dropping the slice he’d just picked up and bracing himself.

“Whoa.” she said, too softly for what he’d come to expect from a reprimand, “You need to slow down or you’ll make yourself sick, or choke.”

NH swallowed what was in his mouth and carefully looked over at her sideways, through lidded eyes. The corners of her mouth were tilted up but her eyes looked a little wet. NH blinked, surprised, and then nodded mostly out of habit.

She pulled her hand back suddenly, just realizing it was there and then got up, taking her plate with her. “I’ll get you the medicine.”

There’s that word again. NH’s fingers felt numb and he suddenly wished that he hadn’t eaten so fast as nausea settles over his stomach in a thick cold sheet.

Medicine was never a good thing. It always made him feel sick and weak and out of control, if he were lucky it knocked him out, and if he wasn’t, he’d feel numb and unable to move, forced to listen to the sounds of sawing and digging and cutting. It was only ever used when he wouldn’t stop resisting and when it wore off he found himself on a hard medical table, and had a few more scars or ports, usually both.

But this wasn’t the base.

So far nothing things in this strange little place had been the opposite of what he’d come to expect, It was almost worse than the base. He never knew what to expect, he didn’t know where the breaking point would be, or if this whole experience was some kind of sick game.

He didn’t know why he’d even been brought here, or what they planned to use him for. He thinks that if he could just know that things would be a little easier. He could at least know what to expect, or how to act or what to prepare himself for.

He knew what Medicine was, but here it could mean anything.

He also knew that he needed to start complying better. He’d been so pathetic in front of the two humans already, he’d already pushed the limits of their patience he knew that. If he didn’t pull himself back to his routine of obeying order and doing whatever they told him soon things would most definitely get worse.

Everything was less painful when he just compiled.

Monica comes back too quickly, with two little white circles in her hand and orders him to swallow them with the hydration fluid with a soft smile.

NH’s hands shake, his vision blurs and his chest feels tight but he does what she asks, though his brain is screaming for him not to.

He quickly throws the pills into his mouth and drains the entire glass, hoping that he’ll at least escape the bitter taste of the medicine. His hands are shaking so badly he nearly drops it but Monica reaches forward, cupping her slender fingers around the outside of his own and helping him set it back on the table with a quick careful motion.

He forces back another bout of nausea, trying to keep his breathing even.

He couldn’t panic, not now when she was this close. 

“Id, Hey kid?!”

NH snaps his head up quickly, and almost knocks it into Monica’s but she moves out of the way in time. “S-sorry- I D-.” He didn’t hear her, he didn’t know she was calling for him. Monica smiles softly, though her eyebrows are pinched. NH can’t tell if she’s acting or not, her expressions are strange and mixed and he doesn’t know which part of it to respond to.

“You don’t need to apologize Sweetie.” She mostly looks sad, but he’s not sure why. He wonders if not answering made her sad but that sounds almost too strange to even be considered a possibility. “I was just wondering if you felt alright?”

What did that mean? Was she waiting for the medicine to take effect? Was that her way of asking if it had yet?

“I’m okay.” he hears himself saying, “The bathroom.”

Monica’s eyes widen a bit at that and she stands, “Oh of course, Here let me help you there.” She helps him walk instead of outright picking him up this time and his feet ache with every step, he wonders if there’s a reason why she’s letting him walk on his own. If it was a punishment? It felt like one.

Eventually they make it to the bathroom and Monica sits him on the side of the tub, “I’m going to be cleaning so I’ll give you privacy, call me when you’re ready to come back out.”

NH feels like he’s floating next to his body.

Monica cracks a soft smile at him and then continues, “I think you could get some more sleep soon.”

His suspicions are confirmed then. The medicine she’d made him take was a sedative after all, and in just a few more minutes he’d be feeling the affects, falling out of consciousness and waking up disoriented and numb and fuzzy. He vaguely registers The woman excusing herself, or the door closing behind her and quiet footsteps making their way back towards the room she'd called a kitchen.

The strange food he’d eaten sits like a rock in the bottom of his stomach, the nausea that had been slowly building, since he’d first really felt the feeling of having something inside him, comes to a peak.

NH just barely manages to bring his head over the toilet before his stomach empties itself.

He chokes and coughs, trying to stay as quiet as possible, holding the sides of the toilet tightly and only keeping himself up by sheer force of will.

Part of him is relieved, the medicine should come up with the food, and then he won’t have to deal with that awful feeling it always gave him.

Another part of him hurts. It burns so bad that he can feel involuntary tears sliding down his cheeks as his knuckles ache and eventually the horrible waves of sickness left him, leaving NH shaking and forcing deep breaths to steady himself again. He couldn’t keep himself upright any longer though, and has to slump to the ground, leaning back against the tub for support.

He swallows thickly, and tastes blood. It’s tracking down his chin, and mixing in with the bile. He wipes his arm across his mouth without thinking, and stains the shirt he’s wearing with a dark spot of red.

NH stares at it horrified, and then frantically goes to work folding the sleeve to cover it with Jerky movements. Luckily the shirt is a dark red, so it’s hard to tell there’s even discoloration, especially with the extra layer between. His chest feels heavy, and achy, in a circle around the port in his chest. It makes NH want to dig his fingers underneath the peice and pry it away as if it were a particularly annoying scab.

Instead, he wipes his mouth with paper, and flushes it down the toilet along with the vomit, before slumping back against the cold tub and wrapping his arms around his aching stomach. electing to stay there until the rest of the nausea trickles away and he’s left feeling numb and empty in more ways than he thought possible.

 

***

NH isn’t sure how long he sits on the floor afterwards, folding and unfolding the sleeve, trying to calm his breathing and will his stomach to steady out enough so Monica won’t be able to tell anything is wrong.

It's a constant dread of his that she'll come barging in at any moment, picking him up by his collar and forcing him to get up and hurry back to her side.

NH lays down instead, in the space just between the bathtub and the toilet, pressing his forehead against the cool tiles, and pulling his knees up, wrapping his hands around them careful not to disturb his feet.

He can feel his heartbeat in them.

***  
Monica makes herself busy, cleaning the dishes and organizing her kitchen. Unfortunately she doesn’t get much time to actually cook and likes her house clean, so there’s not much to organize. She wants to give the kid privacy, she really does but as the minutes tick on she can’t help but get antsy, pacing around the kitchen, and biting the nail of her thumb, and old habit she’d mostly gotten rid of.

It takes far too long for her comfort but finally she hears a horse clearing of a throat ad then the kid’s timid voice, “M-Monica?”

She was half expecting it to never come, and that she’d eventually have to be the one to knock on the door. Her chest aches as she pads towards the bathroom she places her hand on her chest trying to calm nerves that had no place in being there in the first place. she just needs needs to focus on the task at hand, Getting the kid into a nice warm bed.

“Sweetheart?, I’m coming in alright?”

A soft hum is her response. She opens the door and finds him simply sitting on the side of the tub where She’d left him. He looks a little paler than before, and she hopes the sweetness of the food wasn’t making him feel sick.

“All set?”

He nods timidly and Monica bends down, holding her arms out in a way that would give him the ability to make the first contact. He reaches out a shaky fist and grips the back of her shirt, and she helps him up onto his feet and takes him the short distance back to the bed.

She can feel heat through his thin sweater and frowns, hoping his fever would be down at least somewhat. Monica lifts him onto the bed so he won’t have to crawl before gently tucking the blankets around his body, careful when reaching his feet. She looks up at him, his expression is almost painfully neutral.

“I’m going to feel your face okay? To check if you still have a fever.”

The kid swallowed thickly, before nodding.

Monica gently placed her palm against his cheek, brushing away some of his blonde hair, frowing when she realizes it’s damp with sweat. She flips her hand over, feeling his other cheek just to be sure and yeah. The fever’s still there, burning hot and unrelenting under her fingers. The kid closes his eyes tightly, and she can feel him tremble under her hand so she removes it. 

The medicine clearly had had to kick in. 

She gets a rag for his forehead, explaining the process to him the entire time as he nods along half heartedly, She fills a bowl of water from the bathroom and dips the cloth in before wringing it out in a quick motion and placing it gingerly over his forehead. He sighs against the coolness of it and Monica can’t help but run her hand against his cheek again, glad that he leans into the touch because it means she’s providing even a little bit of comfort.

“Alright,” Monica says, “How are you feeling?”

The kid blinks at her, through hazy eyes, before dropping his gaze to stare down at the blankets.  
“I-Fine.” he stutters, and pulls away just a bit from the comfort. 

Monica wishes she could have kept her hand there just a bit longer.

She drops her hand to her side, scratches at the spot under her watch, “I should have been more specific, How is the pain? The medicine should start working by now.”

The kid squeezes a fist around the blankets. “I-It’s working, I’m tired, I am.”

Monica smiles sympathetically, “Yeah I bet... you go ahead and sleep alright? I’ll be here when you wake up and we can start to figure things out.”

His hands tremble where they’re gripping the blanket and Monica frowned, knowing it must not be working as well as she’d hoped. I’m sorry we can’t get you any healing potions, Selene- one of the doctors you saw, is afraid it could mess with your synthetic parts.”

He nods Jerkily, the words do anything but relax him and Monica feels the urge to say more. It was probably for the best if she let things be however..

She got up, turning off the lamps and drawing the thin curtains to make the room dimmer before heading towards the door frame.

The corners of her mouth quirk up “You can always call for me, I’ll be just outside alright?”

It takes him a moment to realize she wants an answer. “..A-.Alright.”

“Sleep well.”

She closes the door softly behind her.

**Author's Note:**

> COmments are a big motivator for me! so leaving one for me whether it be your thoughts criticism suggestions ect is always very appreciated! thanks for reading <3


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